


Never Again

by MonsterBrush



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Book!verse elements, Cavity - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, I have no idea what I'm doing, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterBrush/pseuds/MonsterBrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch Black and Toothiana wake up in bed together after a New Year's party at North's workshop with little memory of how they got there. They had very little trouble figuring out what happened while they were drunk. Now all they need to do is keep the other Guardians from finding out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an extremely "spur of the moment" kind of thing. I woke up at 5 am and started writing this story on a really confusing whim/creative urge. That same urge compelled me to share it with the world (I've already written two chapters so why not?). I apologize if it sucks, I can't really tell anymore, but I wasted a lot of time writing it when I should have been doing homework so it damn well better have been worth it... ;-; sorry. I've never posted a fanfic before, I'm kind of nervous...

Pitch’s POV

When Pitch Black woke up he was sore all over, in places that hadn’t felt that way in years. His head was pounding like a heart would after a particularly bad nightmare and it took all of his willpower just to open his eyes. The light that greeted him, although faint, was enough to make him hiss and curl up, too weak to do more than bury his face into something soft. The movement did not help his current condition in the slightest.

Dear sweet MiM, what did he do last night?

Pitch squeezed whatever he was holding in his arms tighter as he thought back to what he hoped was the previous night.

There had been a party. Sanderson had dragged him out of his lair with that annoying little shit Jack Frost, and they all but carried him to North’s workshop. He’d been given a drink, and from that point on he couldn’t remember a moment in the evening when he didn’t have a drink in his hand.

He wasn’t sure when, but at some point his memories began to get fuzzy. The rest of the Guardians had been there, maybe a few minor spirits as well. Bunnymund started a fight with someone (he hesitated to conclude that it had been him). Sanderson had done… something… And he remembered Toothiana-

Wait a minute…

Why did he have a memory of doing _that_ with…

Oh.

 _Oh_ …

He was suddenly hyperaware of the gently breathing form that he was enveloping. He had one leg hooked over a soft hip, pulling it flush against his groin, he had one arm tucked around a petite waist, and the sensation of feathers rubbed against the front his naked body indecently. Steeling himself for the inevitable, Pitch cautiously squinted against the dim light of the guest room at North’s workshop to be met with a brilliant iridescent blaze of greens and blues, and the sight of the Guardian of Memories tucked up against his chest fast asleep.

Pitch held his breath in shock, his headache doubling in strength. He’d fucked the Tooth Fairy. He cringed at the crudely put, but--based on the fragmented memory he had of last night--accurate. He groaned at the dizziness that overtook him and felt his stomach clench. Naturally, that was the moment Toothiana decided to wake up.

She shifted slightly, moaning as she stretched her legs beneath the bed sheets, her body arching languidly into his stomach, and he winced at the slow drag of feathers against his skin. After several long breathless seconds, she lifted her head and her eyes opened.

It was fascinating to watch the progression of emotions flit across her face. Shock, maybe a twinge of fear (Pitch honestly couldn’t blame her), confusion, deliberation, recollection, more shock judging by the scarlet blush that crept into her cheeks, more fear. He never saw what followed because the next thing he knew he was scrambling backwards right off the edge of the mattress and onto the hard wood floor with a heavy thud. The fall knocked the air from his lungs and made his vision blur as he blinked at the ceiling dazed and wheezing, one leg trapped in a sheet.

The suddenness of his actions had Toothiana leaping out of the sheets to hover near the ceiling, wide eyed and alarmed. Her feathers were noticeably ruffled, soft downy fluff sticking up from more than just surprise. The plumage around her neck and shoulders was crumpled and out of sorts, and the area in between her legs as well as parts of her stomach were an absolute mess of half dry feathers.

Pitch felt his face heat up and abruptly snapped his gaze back to her face to find her eyeing his body in much the same way he had hers. At that point her cheeks were ruddier than North’s, and when Pitch glanced down at his body he could see why.

He was completely exposed, and on top of that his upper body was covered in dark bruises scattered over his neck and chest. Long rows of scratches ran down his front and he could feel more of the stinging marks on his back from the fall out of bed. He was more of a mess than she was!

All at once the dizziness that had struck earlier caught up with him in full force and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden nausea that swelled in his belly, clamping a hand over his mouth. A wave of heat rolled over him, leaving an unpleasant chill in its wake.

“D-did we...? Please tell me we didn’t-” Toothiana began weakly. Pitch ignored her as he kicked himself free from the sheet and half-scrambled, half-dived for a waste bin near the nightstand, grabbing it in the nick of time.

“We did…” Pitch heard her groan in dismay over the sound of retching as he puked his guts out. He was practically lying on his stomach in front of the trash bin, too grateful to have reached it in time to think about what might have happened if he hadn't. Black, watery tar spattered the inside of the bin as Pitch emptied his stomach. He didn’t look at Toothiana, didn’t dare take his hands off the sides of the trashcan until he felt confident enough to raise his head.

Pitch gagged at the taste left on his tongue and shakily wiped his mouth on his wrist, shuddering in disgust. This was a new low for him, which was saying something considering how low he’d been before the Truce with the Guardians. He was no stranger to alcohol or the hellish events that followed it, but never in his long, long years of living had he ever woken up in bed with someone after a night of drinking. This had never happened to him before. It was entirely new, uncharted territory, and it was scary.

As if on cue, he felt a flash of fear from Toothiana. She had settled on the bed, her expression shifting from uncomfortable to nervous, clearly debating something in her mind.

“About last night…”

Pitch had already heard enough. She was scared. Scared of him, and of what would happen if the Guardians found out about what they had done. 

“Whatever transpired between us last night was completely unintentional. We are going to forget it ever happened. I’ll go back to my lair, you go back to your palace, and we will never speak of this again. Is that clear?” Pitch cut her off as sharply as his throat enabled.

At her hesitant nod he felt something in his chest tighten, but he pushed the feeling aside and instead reached out to the shadows beneath the bed. The dark crawled to him and engulfed his body gently, gradually transitioning from shadow to fabric. Remembering the bruises he fashioned the collar of his new robe to cover them.

Fully clothed at last, Pitch straightened carefully, his vision swimming. “Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave Toothiana a small nod before slipping into the darkness beneath the bed, eager to sleep off the headache he had and forget the whole night entirely. Maybe, if he was lucky, his sleep would be tame for once and give him some much desired rest. One thing was certain; he was never drinking with Sanderson again.

 

Toothiana’s POV

Toothiana woke with a moan, wincing at the ache in her thighs as she straightened her legs. She paused at the skin she felt against her cheek, a sudden cold dread settling over her. 

The previous night was a blur. It had been North’s turn to host the New Year party and he delivered beyond their expectations as usual. Even a few minor spirits had shown up. She vaguely remembered Sandy and Jack slipping out to fetch something, at least that was what she gathered from the mischievous smirk on Jack’s face that always spelled trouble when he teamed up with the Sandman. There had been a fight between Bunny and the Groundhog again, although not as violent as last year, thank MiM. And with the peace treaty between the Guardians and Pitch Black she had even indulged in a sugary, fruity beverage that one of the yeti had mixed. Whatever it was, it had been good, because she’d downed quite a few.

Toothiana was not much of a drinker. Sandy was the real heavy weight when it came to tolerance, North probably had more alcohol than blood at this point, Bunny spent most of his time in Australia, and Jack had the blessed energy of youth to keep him from going under the table. Despite that, she was surprised (and a bit disappointed) that she had gotten so mind numbingly drunk that she couldn’t recall the entire night. Speaking of which, what had she gotten herself into?

There was a body lying next to her, one arm draped over her waist, a leg thrown over her thighs to hold her closer. It wasn’t Bunny--there was a distinct lack of fur from what she could tell, and the leg felt human. She silently prayed to MiM that it wasn’t any of the other Guardians and lifted her head slowly, coming face to face with the Nightmare King himself, Pitch Black.

She froze.

Pitch was awake, and staring at her with an unreadable look on his face, the gold in his eyes searing like a hot cattle prod on her flesh, unnaturally bright in the dark room. 

Why was Pitch here? She raked her brain for answers and paled at the ones she found. Toothiana could have sworn her heart stopped right then as flashes of memory rose out of the jumbled mass of recollection that was last night.

...Well that was a… rather intimate, um… oh dear...

Blood rushed to her face until it felt like her skin had caught fire. This couldn't be happening. She wanted to fly away and hide in her palace for the next thousand years but those glowing eyes kept her pinned until all she could think of was how she was going to escape when his arms and legs kept her trapped.

A heartbeat passed and the limbs that held her along with the heated glare were gone as Pitch wrenched himself away like he’d been burned and disappeared off the side of the bed, taking the bed sheet with him.

Toothiana’s heart kicked her back into action as she freed her wings and took flight, finding a safe place to hover over the room, her crest brushing the rafters.

Pitch hadn’t disappeared at all, if the yelp he’d made as he was going over the edge was any indication. He was flat on his back, wheezing from the fall to the floor, and showing more skin than Tooth could handle. One leg was snared by the twisted sheet at an awkward angle. She didn’t even notice his gaze scanning her body as she stared in numb shock at the claw marks covering his front, a darker shade of grey than the rest of his body, and bruises all over his neck and chest that Toothiana could tell right away were bite marks. There were lighter areas of grey as well that she suddenly realized were scars, the most prominent of which being a large burst of scar tissue over his heart with trailing lines like the points on a star spreading out over the left side of his chest. It took a fair bit of willpower to tear her gaze from examining the rest of them.

She didn’t even want to think about what she must have looked like. She hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt. Her feathers felt ruffled in a satisfying way that felt terribly wrong in the context of the situation, and she could definitely feel bruises forming on her hips and shoulders. She had never felt more grateful that she was covered in feathers than she did right then.

Toothiana worked up the courage to look at Pitch’s face, her heart in her throat.

“D-did we...? Please tell me we didn’t-“

Pitch didn’t even acknowledge her speak as the grey suddenly drained from his face. He covered his mouth and crawled for the nearest waste bin like his life depended on it. She hadn't seen him crawl that fast since his defeat on Easter, three years ago.

His back facing her, Tooth saw even more rows of claw marks scoring his back so thoroughly that they almost formed a dark arrow pointing up towards his head as they ran diagonally down his flesh. A few of them looked bloody.

“We did…” she sunk to the ground in anguish as the first wet choking sounds filled the air, echoing off the sides of the bin Pitch had stuck his head into. She felt almost sick herself, sitting gingerly on a clean part of the soiled sheets as she landed on the bed to look herself over and tried not to watch. She distracted herself with trying to smooth out the best of her feathers, the rest would have to be cleaned in a bath.

As much as she wanted desperately not to look at Pitch again, the retching went on for a while and she almost felt worried when she saw his thin form curled over a trash bin. She could count every rib along his sides, and every bump down his spine if she wanted to. After about a minute longer Pitch was hacking dryly and shivering as he released his death grip on the bin and lifted his head.

Toothiana tried not to stare at the dark substance he smeared from his lips. Had he been a friend, she would have been at his side in an instant to rub his back and comfort him. But he wasn’t a friend. Until very recently he had been as far from a friend as a person could get. Truce or not, he was still the Nightmare King and Toothiana didn’t dare touch him. But she wasn’t going to just leave either. Something needed to be said, and she wasn't sure that Pitch was going to be the one to say it. She definitely wasn’t ready to face whatever the other Guardians might have to say about last night. The thought brought a surge of panic through her and, as though sensing it, Pitch turned his face toward her expectantly.

Toothiana shifted anxiously under his stare. His hair was a mess, he was naked, and he had just finished vomiting into a waste bin, looking as far from the Nightmare king as he could get. If it wasn’t for his eyes and distinct face she might not have recognized him.

“About last night…” She began; anchoring herself to the subject like her life depended on it. 

“Whatever transpired between us last night was completely unintentional. We are going to forget it ever happened. I’ll go back to my lair, you go back to your palace, and we will never speak of this again. Is that clear?” Pitch said bluntly, his eyes cold despite the gold that blazed in them. His voice wavered when he spoke, at odds with how she was used to hearing him speak, and his eyes looked watery.

Toothiana felt exactly the same way, and the unanimous agreement made her weak with relief. Thank MiM Pitch was acting mature. Part of her was worried that he would try to use the night against her as blackmail. That seemed like something the Nightmare King would do, but she definitely wasn’t going to point that out.

She nodded faintly, stiffening when the shadows under the bed stretched out to engulf Pitch in darkness, settling over his hunched form like a blanket. They solidified and in one clean motion Pitch stood, fully dressed in a high collared robe to hide the bruises on his neck. 

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” he dipped his head curtly in her direction before sinking into the shadows beneath the bed.

Toothiana peered over the side of the mattress pensively, trying to determine whether the Bogeyman was gone without having to look.


	2. Chapter 2

Toothiana fluttered down the hallway feeling marginally better than she had when she woke up. She was sore, her head was killing her, and she was pretty sure her shoulders and legs were bruised, but she was clean. Well, her body was clean anyway. Some of her feathers were still a bit damp from the bath she’d taken, but as long as they weren’t sopping wet she didn’t really mind.

The yeti were hard at work cleaning up the evidence from last night’s festivities as she flew through the workshop.

Trash littered the areas that had been cleared for the guests, and the elves were treating it as some sort of scavenger hunt, collecting scraps of confetti, used napkins, crumpled paper cups, and any fallen food that had been left after the party.

Meanwhile, the yeti cleared away the larger things. Tables were being folded, chairs were stacked, and the confetti cannons were stored away until next year (or until Jack found them).

Toothiana spotted Phil who seemed to be preoccupied with mopping up a sticky puddle of fruit punch, grumbling something under his mustache too lowly for her to hear. He directed her to where the other Guardians were eating and went back to his work, scrubbing at the floor a bit rougher than necessary as she left.

The Guardians always ate breakfast together on the day after New Year, so it didn’t surprise Toothiana to find the table already set and piled high with food. What did surprise her was that she had been the last one to the table. She was usually right behind Sandy who, ironically, was always the first to wake up after a long night of drinking.

The yeti had set up a veritable feast for the Guardians. There were steaming pots of freshly brewed tea, warm bowls of porridge, and large platters heavily laden with pancakes, sausages, eggs, fruits, vegetables, all with a helpful pitcher of Phil’s “hangover cure” for the heavy partiers on the side.

Toothiana hesitated to pour herself a glass. It looked like Bunny needed it more anyway. The Easter Bunny’s head was face down on the table beside an empty plate, with a makeshift ice pack balanced on the back of his head.

Instead she discretely snagged a slice of lemon with sugar and ground coffee on top, popping it into her mouth quickly. She didn’t want to call attention to what kind of night she’d had, but she wasn’t going to refuse the possibility of relief from her aching head. She was just grateful that North thought to set out a hangover cure that didn’t involve more alcohol.

“Morning Tooth!” Jack waved enthusiastically, half way through eating a disproportionately large plate of pancakes for one so skinny. He was perched in his chair with his staff tucked into one elbow securely.  

“Good morning Jack! I hope you plan to brush your teeth after all that.” Toothiana chirped automatically at the sight of all the food in front of him. Jack snickered playfully in reply and shoveled another syrup-saturated bite into his mouth.

She smiled as brightly as she could and eased herself down into the remaining seat between Sandy and Bunny, wincing at the protest her thighs gave her for the action.

Baby Tooth squealed at the sight of Toothiana, darting up from the depths of Jack’s hoodie. The mini fairy had probably been stuck to Jack’s side all night judging by the tiny snowflakes dusting her body.

“Tooth! You are usually so early! What gives?” North asked in what was probably meant to be a joking manner. To Toothiana it sounded more like an implication.

Toothiana forced another grin, ignoring the low squeaks from her mini fairy.“I slept in a bit and took a quick bath is all.” she said quickly, her stomach clenching. It wasn’t a lie, she reminded herself silently as she filled her plate with a few fruits and a piece of toast. She took a hesitant sip of water to wash out the taste of the lemon slice she’d eaten.

“Oh hey, Tooth? Have you seen Pitch?” Jack asked between bites.

“What?! No, definitely not. Why?” Toothiana had been in mid-sip when Jack spoke and barely kept the water in its glass when she spit what was still in her mouth back into it. 

“Sandy was looking for him.” The silent Guardian waved for Tooth’s attention, holding up a horribly familiar black cloak for her to see. 

“We stole his robe. We were gonna give it back to him in the morning but it looks like he left already. Figures.” Jack huffed, slumping in his seat a little. Beside the winter sprite, Bunny lifted his head and muttered something about Pitch leaving a fearling in the punch bowl, covering up his words with a long swig of hangover cure.

“Why was Pitch here to begin with? Not that I am complaining, is fine. I was not thinking he would come.” North asked, fixing Jack and Sandy with a suspicious stare. Toothiana stared at her plate regretfully. It turned out her stomach wasn’t ready for the food after all, judging by the way it churned at the topic of the conversation.

Sandy kicked his tiny feet out innocently from the stack of dreamsand pillows he sat on, letting his eyes wander around the room as he pretended to whistle noiselessly, musical notes made from more golden sand floating over his head. 

Jack’s carefully blank expression broke the second he made eye contact with North. His face split into a huge grin, displaying those lovely white teeth playfully.

“I thought the guy needed to lighten up more, so Sandy and I dragged him out from under his bed and made him promise to stay here until the party was over, in exchange for being left alone for a week. He was supposed to check in with Sandy in the morning, but since he already left I guess he’s getting an indoor snow day tomorrow.” Jack explained with a smirk. Sandy hid his grin behind a glass of eggnog. 

Toothiana had to shake her head at the pair’s antics. The lengths the two (particularly Jack) went to annoy the Bogeyman were impressive to say the least.

Jack had been the one to initiate the truce between the Guardians and Pitch in the first place, and Sandy had been the driving force behind the entire operation.

Bunny, obviously, had wanted nothing to do with the idea and still opted to ignore the agreement at times.

North had been extremely optimistic about the plan, and indeed was one of the reasons it was still in effect. He was surprisingly skilled at negotiations when he needed to be.

As for herself, Toothiana certainly hadn’t been opposed to the idea of peace. She was just… a little skeptical.

It had come as a surprise when Jack soared into her palace waving a signed contract over his head with huge smile on his face. And even more of a surprise came from the sheer amount of effort he put into annoying Pitch. Toothiana had been genuinely concerned that Jack was going to get seriously hurt, but Pitch had stayed true to his word and aside from the occasional “revenge prank” Jack remained unharmed.

It had been a lot funnier before she had accidentally slept with the man, otherwise she might have laughed at what Jack had in store for Pitch.

Jack seemed to notice her lack of enthusiasm and cocked his head at her curiously. “You okay, Tooth? You look a little pale.”

Toothiana jolted, pasting a fresh smile on her face reflexively. “Sorry Jack, I’m a little tired from last night.” Her cheeks were starting to hurt from the grin. Jack beamed in response.

“I know right? It was awesome! I’ve never been to a party with so many people!” Jack looked giddy just thinking about it, and the sight brought a more genuine smile to Toothiana’s face.

“Was bigger party than expected!” North agreed with a laugh that made Bunny groan and clamp his paws over his ears. Sandy nodded enthusiastically, Pitch’s robe draped around his shoulders like a cape.

North and Jack continued to revisit the highlights of the night, occasionally joined by a vague symbol from Sandy who was astonishingly still handling his eggnog. Toothiana managed to bolt down half a glass of water and a few bites of toast before her stomach decided it had had enough.

“Well, I need to get back to work.” She announced, readying her wings. Sandy sat up in surprise, slapping his forehead and signaling that he needed to leave as well, plucking at Pitch’s robe for emphasis.

“Oi, don’t be wearin’ that freak’s clothes!” Bunny barked, forming his first coherent sentence of the morning.

Sandy shook his finger at Bunny coquettishly and floated out of his chair. The robe was still long enough to drag along the floor.

“You will be taking snow globe! I insist!” North stood up fast enough to knock his chair over. A yeti caught the heavy furniture before it could hit the ground. “And Sandy, when you are seeing Pitch, there is fearling in my office waiting for him. Elves found it at snack table last night.” He added in a more neutral tone. Bunny raised his head and growled at the mention of the fearling but otherwise made no comment.

Sandy nodded in understanding, patting North’s shoulder sympathetically. He grabbed one last mug of eggnog before using the snow globe he’d been given. How he accomplished this without whispering a location first was one of life’s many great mysteries. 

Toothiana accepted the snow globe gratefully, relieved that she wouldn’t have to fly the entire way home. She was very eager to take a nap in her own bed, _alone_ this time, with the lights left on for good measure.

“Baby Too- oh, there you are. Did you say goodbye to Jack?” The mini fairy was already hovering over her shoulder.

“Yuuuup! See ya tomorrow Baby Tooth!” Jack confirmed with a jaunty salute that was humorously returned.

With one final goodbye Toothiana whispered her home into the globe and opened the portal. Baby Tooth zipped into the swirl of colors the moment it appeared and as soon as they were through Tooth darted past the tooth collecting station and made a beeline for her room located on one of the uppermost spires of the Tooth Palace.

Peace and quiet was exactly what she needed. The mini fairies could manage the collections for a few more hours.

As soon as she fluttered through the window she spun around and yanked a set of silk curtains over the entrance, but not before a brightly colored blur shot through the gap to circle her.

“Baby Tooth?”

The mini fairy immediately launched a series of high-pitched squeaks, flying beak to nose with her queen.

“You _saw_ us?! H-How did you see us?!” Toothiana shrieked, her face hot. So much for pretending it had never happened.

“ _From the window, I-_ “ Baby Tooth began quickly.

“Why didn’t you do anything?!”

“ _I couldn’t! You were already in bed with him_!”

“Didn’t you think to stop us?!” Toothiana covered her mouth in shock, horrified with herself as well as what Baby Tooth might have seen.

Baby Tooth paused for breath, tiny chest heaving. The mini fairy inhaled slowly, closing her eyes, slightly red in the face from what she must have been remembering.

“ _You were already in bed with him_.” She repeated slowly, holding up her hand to show that she wasn’t finished speaking.

“ _I tapped on the window to get your attention. I’d been looking for you because was worried when you disappeared in the middle of the party…”_ The mini fairy trailed off, fidgeting nervously with a few feathers on her stomach, averting her eyes from Toothiana.

“And?” Toothiana prompted breathlessly, somewhat scared to know the answer.

 _“And I did get your attention. But you just got up and closed the curtains…_ ” Baby Tooth flushed scarlet under her feathers. There was more to be said, but Toothiana didn't want to hear it. 

Toothiana’s face went bright red as well, and she stumbled back onto her bed, bringing her legs up to her chest. She hid her face in her hands, too mortified to look her fairy in the eye.

“I-it wasn’t what you think!” Toothiana managed weakly from behind her hands.

 _“What was it then?”_ Baby Tooth demanded. The tone in her voice made it clear she wasn’t leaving until she had answers.

“It was… We… I was drunk okay?!” Toothiana exclaimed, tucking her head into her knees, wishing that if she just curled up tight enough she would disappear.

Shame stung at her eyes and made her stomach sink all the way down to the jungle floor beneath the Tooth Palace. Some queen she was, getting drunk and sleeping with the enemy.

Well, technically Pitch wasn’t the enemy anymore, but there wasn’t a treaty in the world that could erase centuries of bad history. Not to mention Pitch was… well, _Pitch_.

Not that it mattered anyway. They were going to forget it had ever happened, everything would be normal, and they could go on with their lives.

Except Baby Tooth _knew._

And it _had_ happened.

Tears sprang up in Toothiana’s eyes and she suddenly felt like she wasn’t getting enough air. She was dizzy, and aching, and the events from last night were still a chaotic blur that she couldn’t bring herself to organize. At this point a small part of her almost wished she had woken up next to one of the other Guardians. Or a minor spirit. Anyone but _Pitch._ Why did it have to be him of all people?

 _He’s not even a person_! Some part of her screamed, but she pushed the thought down before it could be dwelled on.

“Please don’t tell anyone…” Toothiana finally groaned, her temples throbbing. Baby Tooth probably wouldn’t have told anyone anyway, it wasn’t like she could tell anyone other than the other mini fairies (she definitely didn’t want that to happen), but Toothiana wanted to be sure.

After a long pause Baby Tooth let out a reedy sigh. “ _I won’t. But you had sex-._ ”

“Ugh please don’t say it out loud! I know! I know alright?!” Toothiana interrupted, throwing her hands up as though she could stop the words from being said by knocking them out of the air.

“ _-with Pitch._ ” Baby Tooth finished, crossing her arms.

Toothiana groaned again and let her head fall against her knees. “We already agreed not to say anything.” she mumbled lamely, wishing that it would solve everything.

She lowered her hands from her face, feeling tears slip out onto her cheeks as she blinked up at the mini fairy helplessly.

“How drunk did I need to be to let that happen?” She mumbled, massaging her forehead wearily.

 _“About as drunk as Pitch was. I’m pretty sure Sandy told him to drink three trays of eggnog in exchange for his robe. The guy was wasted._ ” Baby Tooth replied after a moment, trying to smile. She’d been hanging out with Jack too long if she was starting to chase off bad feelings with fun.

The most infuriating part about that strategy was that it was a good one. Toothiana could feel the corners of her mouth curving in a smile despite her strongest attempts to keep it a frown.

“He’s lucky Jack didn’t find him then.” Toothiana added, feeling marginally better than she had moments ago.

 

* * *

 

On the other side of the globe, deep underground, the Guardian of Dreams drifted through Pitch Black’s lair, following the dark, ever changing path that led to the Bogeyman.

Pitch was curled up in his bed, cocooned in blankets, and sleeping off what was probably the hangover of the century.

Sandy didn’t wake him up, that had never been his job, and instead dusted a light layer of Dreamsand over where he figured Pitch’s head was. He couldn’t see where Pitch was getting his air under all those blankets, if he was breathing at all, but the sand took hold so Sandy figured he hadn’t missed, although Pitch’s head was opposite the side of the bed where the pillows were.

Sandy set a glass of water on a nearby nightstand and looked away to fold Pitch’s robe neatly, wondering how long he should keep Jack out of the lair before Pitch could be annoyed without the risk of injury. He set the robe down beside the glass and turned to take a peek at whatever Pitch’s mind had made with the Dreamsand, as it sometimes yielded interesting results and-

_Oh my…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nikolashka- a Russian hangover cure consisting of a slice of lemon with sugar and ground coffee on top meant to be swallowed in one bite. It was the first one I found that didn’t involve copious amounts of pickled food or more alcohol.


	3. Chapter 3

Feathers slid over every inch of his bare skin. Delicate hands ran up his back and down his chest, coaxing powerful shudders from his entire body. And when surprisingly strong fingers wove themselves into his hair and curled into fists, he moaned unguardedly into the pair of lips that captured his, bearing down onto the body beneath him.

The mattress shifted with his thrusts, bedding kicked onto the floor by kneading legs, pillows scattered in a fight for control that Pitch had lost as he was suddenly flipped onto his back.

Her feathery weight was on top of him, almost too light to satisfy. But her hands were everywhere and she was squeezing around him, destroying the resolve he never thought he needed as his hips involuntarily rose to meet hers.

He wanted to be engulfed in the sensation of being touched. He wanted to drown in it. The hips that he dug his fingers into felt so real, and the feathers that tickled his skin made him shiver with pleasure as he fell over the edge.

Pitch woke with a jolt, arching into the mattress with Toothiana’s name on his tongue, frozen in a mix of shock and ecstasy at what he had just dreamed.

It took several seconds for Pitch to regain some level of coherent thought.

He’d had a dream, he realized numbly, dropping slowly from the high he’d ridden into consciousness. He wouldn’t go so far as to say it had been a good dream, but he hadn’t woken up screaming and thrashing with tears streaming down his face so it certainly wasn’t a nightmare. And there was only one person on the planet that was capable of giving the Nightmare King a dream.

Pitch was clawing out of the blankets in an instant, heedless of the headache that returned with a vengeance the moment he had righted himself.

“Sanderson!” He snarled, hissing viciously at the golden glow that assaulted his sensitive eyes. To him it seemed the gentle light was brighter than usual, but that might have just been the hangover making it worse. He swung his fist violently at the light, the shadows in the room darkening and flickering dangerously.

Sandy dodged the half blind swipe and held up his hands to placate the infuriated Bogeyman, too-bright symbols flashing over his head as fearlings skittered across the walls and floor like rats.

Pitch could only blink and squint, his lower body still partly tangled in the twisted sheets that had enveloped him, hair a wild mess, robes slipping off his shoulders, and teeth bared in a grimace. The grimace only deepened when he noticed the cloying wetness that soaked the front of his pants. He was profoundly grateful that the bed sheets concealed the mess.

The Sandman was blushing a fierce orange and his sand was forming symbols faster than even Pitch could read, occasionally flicking a thin strand of sand at the encroaching shadows to keep them at bay. For once the Nightmare King was actually having a difficult time understanding him. The glow from the sand wasn’t helping much either as Pitch could barely open his eyes wide enough to see in the first place.

“What are you doing here? More importantly, what the _hell_ possessed you to give me a dream about… about _that_?!” He couldn’t even bring himself to put what he had dreamed into words, it had been so wrong. She was still his enemy as far as Pitch was concerned. Inappropriate was the first thing that came to mind, appalling was another.  

His skin was still crawling with the phantom touch of feathers ghosting over his body. He wanted to claw at the sensation but he didn’t dare allow Sanderson of all people to see him so uncomfortable.

Sandy’s glow intensified as he blushed harder, shaking his head so vigorously that tiny particles of sand were flung from his hair.

“What do you mean you didn’t make the dream?” Pitch demanded furiously.

Sandy conjured the image of a dog on a leash. The leash disappeared and the dreamsand dog took off to run laps around the room whimsically, chasing off the fearlings that swarmed just beyond the reach of the sand’s light. It was snapped up in the jaws of a nightmare while in the middle of its second lap as Pitch glowered at Sandy, wondering silently what had possessed him to agree to a truce with the Guardians in the first place.

Onyx clopped slowly into the bedroom, munching on the dreamsand as she entered. She eyed Sandy, and then Pitch, before trotting along the wall to lurk behind her master, ears perked curiously.

“You are not to tell a soul of this.” Pitch growled after a moment, the dark slowly receding as stray shadows slunk back underneath his bed. “Not. A. Soul. Is that clear little man?”

Sandy nodded, glaring at the retreating fearlings in disgust. He hesitated as a tooth and a question mark formed over his head.

“Don’t even _think_ about bringing her up! You’re the one watching people’s wet dreams, not me!” Pitch barked, slashing his hand through the sand violently.

Sandy had the gall to look offended, and scowling in annoyance he reformed the message with the additions of a bed and party hats. The blush was still there but his face was stern.

Pitch felt his own face heat up as he snarled at the sand images. Sandy gestured at Pitch’s neck with a perceptive look and folded his arms in exasperation.

_“Do you think I’m an idiot?”_ Sandy signed indignantly, narrowing his eyes. Pitch could only scowl.

“I was drunk! Toothiana was too, otherwise it would have never happened.” He snapped angrily, trying to ignore the panic rising slowly in his chest. It hadn’t even been a full day yet and he’d already given it away. And to Sanderson of all people! Pitch growled and lowered his face into one hand, his head pounding.

This was all Sanderson’s fault really. He was the one who dragged Pitch to the party in the first place. It had probably been Jack’s idea but that little imp never would have found him if it hadn’t been for the Sandman. It was their fault he’d gotten drunk too, Pitch suspected.

A light tap on his shoulder drew Pitch out of his thoughts as Sandy pressed a glass into his hand. He blinked hard at the contents suspiciously despite Sandy’s brief explanation.

“I like to consider myself above falling for something as trivial as the placebo effect.” He grumbled, taking a sip anyway. Lemon water? Really? Pitch snorted in exasperation but drank a bit more anyway, grateful that it wasn’t one of the more outlandish theories on how to deal with a hangover. He wasn’t too sure that his stomach could handle a dried bull phallus.

“Toothiana and I agreed to keep what transpired between us a secret. I trust you will do the same, for her sake at the very least? I’d hate to have to kill you again.” Pitch groused dully, resting his lips on the rim of the glass. Sandy pantomimed pulling a zipper shut across his mouth.

_“Is Tooth okay?”_ Sandy asked after a moment, frowning inquisitively.

“No idea. But then again, I don’t really care.” Pitch replied with a shrug.

_“I’ll have to check then.”_ Sandy decided on his own, his brow furrowed as though he was already planning his flight path to the Tooth Palace. Pitch stiffened at the thought of Sandy revealing what he knew, and worse _how_ he knew. Toothiana would probably be furious. After all, no one was supposed to know.

“Absolutely not! If you do then she’ll realize I didn’t keep my end of the agreement. Toothiana may look soft, but she is a warrior, whereas I am still convalescing from my latest crushing failure. I’d rather not give her a reason to bring me anymore quarters.” He sneered self-depreciatingly, feeling slightly relieved when Sandy seemed to consider this, nodding faintly.

He allowed himself to relax a fraction, holding out the drink for Sandy to take. “I’m going to make this as clear as possible. This never happened. And neither did the events that occurred between Toothiana and myself. Do you understand?” Pitch glared hard at the Sandman for any signs of deceit. Sandy nodded shortly with a noiseless sigh as he took back the glass. He frowned at Pitch as though he were disappointed.

“Don’t give me that look. It’s better for Toothiana and myself that this stays a secret. Besides, if you really didn’t want me doing something I’d regret, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten me drunk in the first place.” Pitch pointed out testily, crossing his arms. Sandy’s frown deepened as he signed back.

“ _If you didn’t want to do something you’d regret, maybe you shouldn’t have drunk three trays of eggnog.”_

“That was still your fault. Why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to bring me in the first place? For a glowing fat man, you’re not very bright.” Pitch grumbled, shifting in discomfort.

_“I kept you away from Bunny didn’t I? Besides, it was Jack’s idea, not mine.”_ Sandy countered with a shrug.

“You and I both know you could have refused, and I can’t say I appreciate Frost’s attempts to, as he so artfully put it, ‘improve’ my nonexistent social life. He does realize I don’t have one for a reason right?” Pitch bit back sourly, scowling at Sandy’s innocent smile. The deplorable little star thought it was funny did he? Well, he certainly wouldn’t be smiling when the fearlings decided to eat Jack, and Pitch wasn’t going to lift a finger to help.

“I’m serious, Sanderson. Dragging me into your little Guardian parties is going to end badly and I refuse to be held responsible for the consequences.” Pitch insisted darkly, wanting nothing more than to see that smile be wiped from Sandy’s face, and maybe a scalding bath, if only he had hot water.

_“That won’t get you out of going to the St. Patrick’s day party at my place.”_ Sandy signed unsympathetically. Pitch wanted to flinch at the downright sadistic glint he saw in the Sandman’s eyes.

“If you think I’m going to that, you are sorely mistaken.” Pitch hissed.

_“There’ll be mermaids~”_ Sandy waved the conjured image of a mermaid in front of Pitch’s face as though it would make the prospect more tempting. The only one tempted was Onyx, who snapped at the sand like a dog being taunted with treats.

“Are you trying to persuade me? If so, you’re not doing a very good job.”

_“Tooth will be there too~”_

“Sanderson!” Pitch screeched, his face flushing. Sandy was already flying out of the room, his head thrown back in silent laughter as shadows and fearlings chased him from the lair.

Finally alone, Pitch let out a long sigh of defeat. Damn Sanderson.

He peeled away the blankets on his legs to wince at the sticky stain over his groin. He glanced over at Onyx who had been snuffling at the lingering traces of dreamsand on the floor.

“Don’t let anyone in the lair.” He ordered, getting to his feet. He was going to shower until he felt clean, or until his skin fell off, whichever came first. Part of him almost preferred the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeezing half a lemon into a cup of water was probably the tamest “cure” for a hangover I could find. Of course you could always try not drinking but no one ever tries that.
> 
> Dried bull penis was the go-to hangover cure in Sicily once. Apparently a bull penis can also be made into a walking stick, which is a very inspired use of wood if you ask me *giggles inappropriately at bad dick joke*.


	4. Chapter 4

“Pitch?!” Jack called as he dropped down into the dark caverns of Pitch’s home. His voice echoed impressively off the stone walls as he rode a lazy breeze through the cages that hung from the ceiling, disturbing a few of the foreboding structures as he passed.

Jack had learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on the Bogeyman, and unthinkable to do so in his own home. The first few attempts to catch the man off guard resulted in Pitch startling Jack out of his wits by appearing behind him scarcely inches away. It was better to just announce himself first and wait for the inevitable.

Sending a burst of frost along the ground as he landed, Jack slid over the iced surface as though he was skating on a frozen lake. It wasn’t nearly as smooth as he would have liked, but he made do. “Pitch?” He called again, frowning.

Sandy had warned Jack of Pitch’s foul mood when he’d run into the Sandman on his way to Burgess, but from the way Sandy described it Pitch wasn’t as grumpy as he could have been. Just a bit hung over, and maybe a little upset that the two of them let him get drunk. Jack honestly couldn’t see what the problem was. Pitch hadn’t been that bad after a few drinks, just a little less coordinated than usual and maybe a bit sappy and emotional, which Jack was ready to admit had been pretty weird. Not as weird as Tooth's not so subtle flirting tactics, or Bunny's sudden determination to actively make up for dismissing Jack before he became a Guardian, but it had been weird nonetheless. If Pitch remembered any of it, Jack was in for an earful of threats and possibly a scythe being swung his way. Regardless of Pitch’s mood however, Jack was determined to put forth a solid effort towards finding the man. 

Huffing irritably, Jack skidded to a stop at the top of a stairway that lead down to a lower platform and glared over the side at the dark pit far below. He wasn’t sure how big the lair was, or how much of it he’d explored, but he never ventured very far into the dark even if that was where Pitch was most likely to be. He wasn’t that stupid. Only Sandy really knew what the rest of the lair was like, and the Sandman was the only person Jack knew who could catch the Bogeyman off guard.

Jack crouched, preparing to leap onto the weak draft that followed him into the tunnel when just as Jack’s feet left the ground something seized the back of his hoodie and yanked him out of the air, choking him severely and giving him the new biggest scare of his life. He clawed at his hood frantically, flailing wildly at whatever had grabbed him. He fully expected to feel a hand on his hood, and was taken aback by the grainy snout he felt instead. 

The nightmare snorted, sending a hot gust over the back of Jack’s neck that made him shudder, and soon the winter sprite found his heels dragging over the stone as he was hauled away from the ledge.

“Hey! Pitch, tell your dumb horse to let go of me!” Jack shouted angrily, trying to pry his hoodie out of the nightmare’s teeth. “Pitch?” Surprisingly, Pitch did not stroll out of the shadows with an infuriatingly smug smirk to comment on the undignified position Jack had found himself in. He’d have to deal with this on his own.

Thinking quickly, Jack sent a fresh layer of ice over the ground using the end of his staff, hearing the icy crackle spread out of sight. The clop of hooves on stone changed and Jack grinned triumphantly as he felt the nightmare loose its footing and slip, only to take Jack down with it.

Knobby legs skidded out from underneath its body as the nightmare fell sideways. Jack barely had time to gasp as he was flung to the floor, hitting the ice with a smack.

Each new attempt to scramble to its feet left the nightmare in exactly the same position it had started in, and Jack a little more bruised than before. The beast was fiercely determined to not let go of Jack’s hood.

It took half a minute of useless thrashing before Jack decided to wriggle out of his hoodie, quickly transferring his staff to his newly freed hand in order to liberate the arm still trapped in its sleeve.

Free at last, Jack straightened unsteadily and skipped away from the dangerously flying hooves of the nightmare still fighting for traction on the ice. He shivered in discomfort at the lack of his jacket, his undershirt pitifully thin in comparison, and stared in annoyance at the blue fabric trapped in the nightmare’s jaw. He’d had that hoodie for years! No way was he loosing it to a stupid horse!

Jack edged behind the nightmare cautiously and hooked the crook of his staff around its neck to pull the horse closer like a shepherd would a wayward sheep. A very big wayward sheep that took great offense to the comparison.

The nightmare’s hoof found a patch of rough ice and used its newfound purchase to push itself to an un-iced stretch of rock. It rose to its feet and turned on Jack who discovered a newfound respect for just how big the nightmare actually was. It would have been taller than Pitch for sure if its head hadn’t been lowered to Jack’s eyelevel so it could glare at him.

“Easy there, horsie. I just want my hoodie back, so if you could just-“

The nightmare blew a hot blast of air straight in Jack’s face that smelled of rust and stone before rearing back and taking off in a sprint past him. Which would have been fine if his staff hadn’t still been hooked around its neck.

Ever since his staff had been snapped by Pitch in Antarctica, Jack held it tighter than he used to, and now his renewed grip strength was being tested as he hung onto the aged wood with both hands and resolved to never let go.

Using the wind to keep his body above the nightmare’s hooves was all he could do as it raced through the caverns faster than Jack could have flown. Nightmares were actually very fast and, as Jack quickly learned, very maneuverable. The nightmare wove between cages and pillars like a fish through water, and ducked under bridges and staircases with surprising ease for its speed. Jack was dragged through right angle turns, and dives so steep he might as well have been falling. It must have been the nightmare sand that made it so fluid, Jack thought seconds before a sudden stop sent him crashing into the back of the beast’s neck. The action jarred the staff from Jack’s hands, and horror seized him when he heard it hit the ground with a clatter. He wasn’t even given a chance to properly panic as the nightmare took off running again. He instinctively wrapped his arms and legs around the nightmare’s neck and shut his eyes.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was lamenting over trying to find his staff again in the maze-like caverns, but the forefront of his mind was busy being paralyzed by the suddenly much scarier ride he was getting as he was thrown back and forth by the lunging motion of the nightmare’s neck.

The nightmare’s mane slashed at Jack’s face relentlessly, leaving stinging trails in its wake as he tried to open his eyes. It was getting darker, and Jack realized with a jolt of alarm that the nightmare was taking him deeper into the lair than he had ever cared to venture before. There was nothing he could do to try and correct its course until he felt the sleeves of his hoodie slap his hands.

In a burst of inspiration he grabbed one sleeve when he dared to take a hand from its secure position around the nightmare’s neck. Scrambling for the other sleeve, Jack sat up and pulled hard.

The shrill scrape of hooves against stone filled his ears as he felt the body beneath him bunching. Still skidding, the nightmare tossed its head and a muffled screech told Jack that it had tried and failed to release his hoodie, which was now caught on the tusks that protruded from the sides of its snout. Its screech became a squeal as the fabric flapped over its head and covered its eyes.

Jack let out a cry of his own when the beast slid over an unseen ledge and into free-fall.

Riding bareback on a blind nightmare, using an improvised set of reins, was an experience Jack never wanted to repeat as with a startled scream the nightmare hit water and sank with its rider in tow. Icy water closed over Jack’s head as the body of the nightmare disappeared beneath him. It was completely dark, and no matter how far he stretched he couldn’t feel the bottom, nor could he feel the surface. Water filled his mouth and nose, his body sinking despite his desperate thrashing. No light. No air. He couldn’t find the surface and his chest was aching with the need to breathe. He paddled desperately, struggling to remain calm. Pitch threw him into water lots of times. He'd be fine. But it was so cold, which was strange because he never felt cold, and he was so scared. The dark was clawing at the edges of his vision like outstretched hands and he felt like his heart would burst if they reached any closer. 

Something grabbed the back of his shirt abruptly and yanked hard, a hand Jack realized as he reached to brush his fingers against it. An arm encircled his waist as Jack’s head broke the surface of the dark water, gravity suddenly dragging on every inch of his body. He sputtered and gasped, relief flooding through him as he twisted to see his savior through the sopping wet hair that fell over his eyes.

“… Hi Pitch…” Jack hit the floor with a yelp as Pitch dropped him squarely on his stomach and stepped away. He looked up just in time to see the man pulling on a shadowy robe and felt his jaw drop when he glimpsed the expanse of naked flesh beneath the robe, and--whoa were those claw marks?

“… I’m not… interrupting anything am I?” Jack asked nervously, his throat curiously dry. The last time he’d been this close to Pitch his staff had ended up two pieces. Jack might have been grateful that he’d dropped it earlier if it weren’t for the fact that he was defenseless in front of a very pissed off Bogeyman.

Pitch looked absolutely livid, more furious than Jack had ever seen him before. The shadows swelled until Pitch’s eyes were the only source of light left, and they burned like the glow of an approaching wild fire.

There was a clattering sound as the nightmare he had accidentally hijacked stumbled out of the pool of water behind Jack. Its head was still swathed in his hoodie as it clambered blindly forward on unsteady hooves, shaking water from its mane and tail in a heavy spray that made Jack grimace as it hit him, the water freezing on his skin. When the shaking did not dislodge the hoodie the nightmare looked ready to start bucking. Jack was already crawling out of the line of fire when Pitch clicked his tongue and laid a hand on its flank.

The look on Pitch’s face still had the potential to kill, but he dragged his hand slowly along the nightmare’s side, all the way up to its head where he peeled back the hoodie and carefully freed the fabric from where it was snagged.

Vision restored, the nightmare chuffed victoriously before catching sight of the positively fatal glare Pitch gave it. Its ears fell and it backed up to stand behind Jack, looking almost sheepish in the way its head drooped to stare at the ground.

Pitch seemed to be mustering every ounce of self-control he had, and was horribly silent for almost a full minute. When he did speak his voice was very calm, and Jack decided he liked it better when Pitch shouted. Not to mention he was several yards closer to the man than he was comfortable with.

“Frost...” Pitch began slowly, closing his eyes as he massaged his temples. The gesture did nothing to disguise the rage that shook in every syllable of his voice as he continued. “Would you mind explaining why you decided to drop a nightmare on me while I was bathing?” He opened his eyes and Jack swore he felt something in his chest _freeze_. The irony was not appreciated.

The sound of the nightmare shuffling behind him broke him out of his shock as he jabbed an accusing finger at it angrily, clinging to his annoyance at the creature instead of how utterly terrifying Pitch looked in the near darkness with his eyes glinting like a predatory beast about to pounce.

“Ask that thing.” He snapped a bit angrier than he should have been, but anything was better than the fear Pitch inspired.

“Onyx.” Pitch’s head raised just a fraction of an inch but it was enough for the heat of his gaze to be directed from Jack to the suddenly very quiet nightmare behind him. Jack actually felt a twinge of sympathy for the creature, and maybe even a bit of guilt as well for being the one to put it under the full intensity of Pitch’s wrath. “Is that true?” the question was clearly aimed towards the nightmare, and although Jack didn’t hear it make a sound in response Pitch appeared to be listening intently, his face as hard as stone. Really the only sign of life in the room came from Jack who was trying very desperately not to move, ice breaking along his skin with each twitch.

Finally, after a few moments of crushing silence Pitch’s expression relaxed minutely and the shadows started to withdraw.

“Jack, would you please tell your side of the story.” It wasn’t a question, and Jack had the distinct impression that Pitch was treating him like a disobedient child. He only hoped Pitch would reconsider corporal punishment. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to remember how to speak.

“Okay, I was just flying around, minding my own business, when suddenly your dumb horse attacks me out of nowhere and tries to steal my hoodie-“ Pitch glanced at the mentioned article of clothing at his feet “So I tried to get it back but my staff got stuck on the stupid nightmare and it goes running off _with me still on it_ and the next thing I know I’m drowning in your lousy excuse for a bath tub!” Jack explained in a mighty rush, his voice getting higher and higher, stopping just shy of a prepubescent squeak. He was being rude, but he couldn’t help the words coming out of his mouth. He was too frightened to bother with a filter.

To his immense relief, Pitch sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from both of them. Jack took the opportunity to glare at the nightmare, which glared back, immediately switching to looking guilty and scared the moment Pitch lowered his hand.

“Unbelievable… Onyx, I told you to keep him _out_ of the lair, not drag him in further.” Pitch sneered, turning back to face them with thankfully less blood thirst than he’d had earlier.

“You named your horse Onyx?” Jack asked disbelievingly, momentarily forgetting the trouble he was in.

Pitch rolled his eyes, “It was the only name she liked.” he explained offhandedly, glaring at the aforementioned horse which was looking more timid by the minute, scuffing the stone with one hoof and staring hard at the ground like it held the secrets of the universe.

“That’s kinda lame.” Jack said, observing the nightmare in mild disappointment.

“I’ll have her escort you out, so be grateful I'm not having the fearlings handle you instead. Where’s your staff?” Pitch asked in a louder voice, pointedly ignoring the comment and narrowing his eyes as he scanned Jack’s person suspiciously. He didn’t sound like he wanted to break Jack’s staff anymore, but the look in Pitch’s eyes definitely implied otherwise. Jack hesitated to reply.

“I dunno. I… dropped it… somewhere back there.” Jack waved his hand vaguely towards where he suspected he had fallen and Pitch sighed again with more irritation.

“Of course you did. Onyx, be a dear and take this waif back to his staff. Once he has it, _calmly_ show him the way out. Is that clear?” Pitch didn’t seem satisfied with the vigorous nodding he received, but he dismissed them both with a wave of his hand and started to melt into the shadows around them. When only his eyes were visible Pitch tacked on a quick- “Jack, if I ever catch you this far into my lair again, I’m going to set you and your staff on fire.” And with that he blinked and was gone. Hopefully.

Jack stood up slowly, the icy shell that had formed over his skin and clothes cracking with the motion. He eyed his surroundings for movement as he crept over to where his hoodie had fallen. The drenched fabric froze slowly in his hand as he retreated to the nightmare, Onyx’s, side with an annoyed expression. “I blame you for this.” He muttered, shaking out his hoodie in a futile attempt to keep it from freezing solid from his touch. Onyx flicked him in the face with her tail as she passed in retort, starting to walk through the caverns presumably to where Jack had dropped his staff.

He hadn’t thought Onyx had run very far, but after five minutes of walking in near darkness with no sign of his staff, Jack started to feel anxious. He’d really screwed up this time. No way was Pitch going to let this go. Jack was convinced that the only reason he was allowed to leave was because Pitch didn’t want to break the truce by killing him.

“We’re in big trouble aren’t we…?” Jack sighed, shaking out his wet hoodie again. There would be no way for him to wear it until it thawed completely. On the bright side, it was the perfect excuse to visit Tooth. The balmy climate of her palace would be great for melting the ice, and if he were lucky Baby Tooth wouldn’t be out collecting teeth.

To Jack’s surprise, the nightmare ahead of him snorted softly in agreement.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He replied dully, chipping a chunk of ice from his knee when it started to impede his movement.

Onyx halted and snuffled at the ground for a moment. When it turned Jack saw his staff clenched in her teeth.

“Oh, um. Thanks…” He said wearily, keeping his fingers as far from the nightmare’s mouth as possible as he took the staff. Frost grew rapidly along the gnarled wood and he sighed in exasperation as his hoodie was quickly iced over in his grasp.

The nightmare huffed gustily into Jack’s hair before turning and starting to trot, gradually picking up speed when she saw Jack was following her on a breeze.

Leaving the lair took a bit longer than Jack expected, but he wasn't about to complain. After all, Pitch was letting him leave unharmed, for the time being at least, and Jack certainly didn't want to test the man's unexpected patience. Despite this he paused just before he reached the tunnel leading back to the surface, looking back at the nightmare that had withdrawn once the tunnel was in sight. Onyx tilted her head in confusion, waiting for him to leave. It was painfully obvious that she was the only nightmare left after Sandy had taken his dreamsand back, and to top it off she was stuck with Pitch. It was a bit sad, when he thought about it.

“Sorry about getting you in trouble. I’ll bring you a sugar cube or something next time.” He promised after a moment.

Onyx vanished the second Jack flew through the tunnel and he gave a heavy sigh of relief as sunlight fell on his skin, washing away the dark that clung to him after a visit with Pitch. 

Burgess still had a few months of snow days to look forward to, and Jack had no problem spending a little more time in the area adding to the snow already blanketing the ground, but the stiffness of his clothes took priority. His shirt was beginning to feel like armor.

Hoping his clothes would melt a little while he flew, Jack called on the wind to whisk him away to the Tooth Palace.

As he was taking off something caught his eye. A black square sat neatly in the shade of a tree, vividly contrasting the sparkling white of the fresh snow. It was probably put there recently Jack figured, noting the distinct lack of snowflakes on top of the object.

It was fabric. And not just any fabric. It seemed to absorb all light. Pitch’s robe? Sandy should have returned it hours ago, so what was it doing outside? Picking it up and shaking it out Jack found himself holding up a pair of black pants.

“Okay yikes.” Jack muttered. Not a robe then. Pitch must have had a more exciting night than Jack expected. Smirking mischievously, he draped the fabric over one arm and took flight to the Tooth Palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna take this chance to say thanks to everyone who has left kudos/commented etc. It brings a smile to my face and I spend about ten minutes per comment freaking out (I saw a couple familiar authors and teared up a little). 
> 
> The pants will be explained in the next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Toothiana wasn’t having the greatest day. The New Year was already shaping up to be a bad one when she’d woken up at North’s, but she had expected it to get a little better once she was home. So far she was having no such luck.

The nap Toothiana had set out to take turned out to be a failure. She couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep no matter how comfortable she was. Her headache had lessened only slightly, and Baby Tooth refused to leave her side. The mini fairy kept shooting worried looks at the underside of Toothiana’s bed, and fluttered down to check for monsters every ten minutes or so. Tooth couldn’t bring herself to tell her to stop, no matter how unlikely it was for Pitch to be there.

Waking up next to the Nightmare King was almost enough to make Toothiana never want to sleep again. His touch was so potent it corrupted dreamsand, and he didn’t even need the sand to cause bad dreams when a simple brush of his hand was enough to invoke terror. And she’d _slept_ with him. The only reason why she hadn’t woken up screaming was because she’d been too drunk to dream. What if he had infected her with fearlings? There were no signs of the loathsome things anywhere on her body, but the thought made her shake, despite herself.

It also didn't help that, every time her mind drifted towards the subject, it was bombarded with memories of how her feathers had clung to his sweat slicked skin, the way his body had arched when she dragged her nails down his back, and the feel of his hands as they shamelessly explored her body. Her face flushed as she buried it in her pillow, squeaking in the back of her throat as her skin crawled.

Sighing miserably, Toothiana sat up, glaring at her bed as she thought of the hour she’d wasted trying to sleep in it. “It’s no use Baby Tooth. Let’s get back to work.” She announced at last, throwing aside the blankets and shaking away the tingling feeling under her skin. Baby Tooth checked under the bed one final time before agreeing to follow Toothiana out of the room.

Toothiana’s legs and shoulders were still painfully sore, and didn’t appreciate being used, so leaving the palace to collect teeth herself was a no-go. Had she been with someone else last night she might have been pleased, or impressed, maybe even pleasantly smug. None of those feelings had any business being associated with Pitch.

She was tempted to send Baby Tooth out. The mini fairy was twitching with unused energy that needed to be burned, and darting around the palace glaring at shadows wasn’t the most efficient way to do it. But Baby Tooth refused to hear any of it and stubbornly relayed directions by her queen’s side. Toothiana knew a lost cause when she saw one, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate the help.

With work to keep her occupied, Toothiana could push any intrusive thoughts about Pitch to the back of her mind and some semblance of normalcy returned to her day.

Sense a lost tooth, say the location, and send out a fairy.

It was a comfortable rhythm that Toothiana was more than happy to fall into, welcoming the distraction it provided from her run away thoughts.

It had been hours later as she was sending out another squad of mini fairies armed with quarters when her pleasant working pace was broken.

“Hey Tooth! You’ll never guess what just happened to me!” Jack called excitedly. Several mini fairies broke formation to greet their favorite spirit enthusiastically as he landed on the platform, and Baby Tooth left Toothiana’s side to chase off any particularly enthusiastic fairies that encroached upon her customary seat on Jack’s shoulder.

“Hi Jack!” Toothiana returned brightly, her wings faltering at the sight of the sprite. “What happened to your clothes? And is that what I think it is?” His hoodie was a solid slab of ice in his hand, and the rest of his clothes looked like a set of icy armor. Sections of ice encased his entire body, broken at the joints where he needed to move. The shell had to be half an inch thick at least. It was actually rather impressive. And fluttering from his shoulders was a familiar black fabric that made her stomach clench.

“Yeah, I was kinda hoping it would melt on the way here, you don’t mind if I hang around and wait for this to thaw do you?” Jack held up his frozen hoodie sheepishly, flakes of ice falling from his hair. “It’s a bit harder to move around in than you’d think.” He added, making a show of trying to bend his legs enough to sit down.

Toothiana smiled tightly, trying to ignore the shadow wrapped around her friend’s neck like a scarf. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you make quite the knight in shining armor.” She replied, squinting at the light that flashed off the surface of the ice. Jack laughed at the compliment and struck a heroic pose, brandishing his staff like a sword. “You’re right, all I need is a mighty steed to ride into battle. Maybe Pitch will lend me his nightmare once he’s stopped being mad at me.” Jack joked, crouching to lay out his hoodie in a patch of sunlight as Baby Tooth fluttered over to perch on his shoulder, glaring at the shadow with a surprising amount of malice.

Toothiana paused, “Why is Pitch mad at you? Is it because you and Sandy made him come to the New Year’s party? I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with that scarf of yours.” She frowned worriedly at Jack’s unwavering grin.

“Nah, something tells me he had a good time last night. He’s just mad because I dropped in on him while he was taking a bath.” Jack told her nonchalantly.

Toothiana’s feet hit the floor in shock. “…You did what?”

“It’s not a big deal Tooth. Besides, it wasn’t even my fault.” Jack insisted, waving off her concerns before they could become too stifling. “I just stopped by for a visit when his creepy horse from hell decided to take me on a ride through his lair. Stole my hoodie too. I ended up falling into a pool of water, which just so happened to be where Pitch was taking a bath, and boy was he upset. Like wow. I’ve never seen the guy look so mad.” He laughed as though he’d just told a joke. Toothiana didn’t share his amusement.

“But anyway, that’s how I ended up covered in ice, and also I think Pitch might have gotten laid last night, because guess what I found outside his lair?” Jack continued, his eyes gleaming mischievously. Toothiana decided she didn’t enjoy seeing that look on Jack’s face and swallowed nervously.

“What did you find?” she asked hesitantly, scared of the answer. The mini fairies seemed to notice her discomfort but thankfully didn’t bring any attention to it and slowly began trickling back into their respective formations to continue their tooth collection at Baby Tooth’s subtle command.

“I found…” Jack was quiet for a few seconds, dramatically building the suspense. “Pants!” he cried at last, laughing so hard the ice on his sides cracked. “Pitch’s pants! They were outside all folded up!” he elaborated, taking the shadow from his neck and unfurling it with a flourish before whispering conspiratorially “I think Pitch got lucky last night and left with someone. But he forgot his clothes at their place and whoever he was with returned them this morning.” Jack collapsed in a fit of giggles as Toothiana felt her face heat up as she recognized the pants Jack held.

She had done no such thing! And she knew for a fact that Pitch had left North’s with all of his clothes! Well, Sandy still had his robe so he’d left that behind. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him find his pants before he had left… Her face grew hotter.

“I have to say I’m proud of the guy. Didn’t think he had it in him. He definitely needed it with how stressed out he is all the time. ” Jack continued, oblivious to Toothiana’s internal panic as he pried a piece of ice from his shoulder. “He’s still a moody ass though. I wonder who he-“

“Jack?” Toothiana interrupted weakly, trying to calm herself.

“Huh? Yeah Tooth?” Jack paused his escape from the icy shell long enough to look up at her.

“Please don’t tell anyone else about this. I don’t think… Pitch would appreciate the gossip.” Toothiana warned him, choosing her words carefully. She was sure what she had said was true, and Jack seemed to agree.

“Yeah, he’d probably throw a fit. I can already picture it, he’d be all like ‘my personal life is none of your business, Frost!’” Jack exclaimed in an exaggerated attempt to mimic Pitch’s voice as he stood up straight and waved his arms theatrically. Toothiana smiled at the display in spite of herself. Surly Pitch wasn’t that eccentric, although it certainly was an amusing thought.

A large chunk of ice fell from Jack’s chest and shattered at his feet. Beaming triumphantly, Jack resumed the task of freeing himself.

“I’m serious, Jack.” Toothiana insisted, schooling her face into a stern expression. It was harder to achieve than it looked, as Jack’s smile was oddly infectious. “Pitch is dangerous. I don’t want to see you get hurt by him.” To her dismay Jack only snorted.

“Please, I know I wasn’t around back when he was all ‘Nightmare King’ but trust me, he’s not so bad once you get to know him a little. And between you and me-“ Jack lowered his voice and glanced around as though looking for eavesdroppers, “he’s a total dork. Ever seen the guy blush? It’s priceless.” He whispered playfully. To Toothiana’s surprise, Baby Tooth nodded reluctantly in agreement.

It took roughly an hour before the ice was completely removed (Toothiana helped him with the ice on his back), and by then a wide puddle of melted ice had spread around him.

Jack snatched up his staff and winced at the water that froze under his feet. “Sorry about the mess. I’m going to see if the Kangaroo has gotten over his hangover yet.” Jack said at last, leaping from the platform and into the wind.

“Wait, Jack!” The winter sprite paused with a questioning look on his face.

“Return Pitch’s pants please.” She told him delicately, seeing him nod as the wind swept him away. She waved goodbye as he left, finally relaxing once he was out of sight.

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep Pitch in the back of her mind. Would he want to know about this? What would she even say to him about it?

It wasn’t her fault Jack had figured it out. As long as Jack didn’t suspect her, their secret was safe. People had flings all the time after all. Even Pitch… Probably. It was how Jack figured it out that concerned her most.

Distracted by her thoughts, Toothiana’s foot hit the frozen puddle and slid out from under her. She squeaked as she fell, landing hard on her already aching rear. Baby Tooth chirped in concern as Toothiana hissed in pain and winced as she sat up. Jack was sweet, but she could have done without the puddles he left behind. As she was crawling to her feet Baby Tooth squealed and hovered in front of her face, pointing frantically at an object frozen under the ice.

Squinting and brushing away the delicate frost fern patterns off the surface of the ice, Toothiana barely identified a slip of paper trapped beneath it.

“What is it?” She asked, glancing at Baby Tooth who shrugged helplessly.

“ _It fell out of one of the pockets in Pitch’s pants. I guess Jack didn’t notice._ ” The mini fairy explained, landing on the ground near the puddle.

Toothiana tapped the ice with her nails, narrowing her eyes. The paper had some sort of writing but it was too blurred to make out. Frustrated she beat her fist against the frozen puddle and stood up with a huff.

“Wait here Baby Tooth.” She ordered, fluttering off to her room quickly. She grabbed one of her scimitars from the cabinet were she kept them and flew back to the puddle determinedly. The ice never stood a chance.

Toothiana picked up the scrap of paper triumphantly as she held the elegant swooping writing to her face. The ink was slightly smudged from its time under the ice but the words were still legible.

 

_Bring your pants the next time you sneak out._

_-Phil_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Pitch gets kidnapped, and a fearling is put in a "time out".


	6. Chapter 6

Pitch was familiar with kidnappings. They caused a lot of fear for everyone involved. The kidnapper feared getting caught. The kidnapped feared being killed. The kidnapped’s loved ones feared what might happen to them. The entire situation was just filled to the brim with tantalizing fear. And there was always the glimmer of “what if” when a stranger follows just a bit too close in an area just a bit too empty.

Yes, the fear was delicious, and Pitch wouldn’t deny lingering on it from time to time. But he never had the pleasure of experiencing it himself until a sword appeared at his throat and a bag was thrown over his head. The mouth of the bag reached past his hands and no matter how hard he struggled the shadows refused to respond to him.

He was overpowered by the smell of peppermint as he was thrown over a startlingly broad shoulder. Even in the dark of the sack he could feel the pull of a portal nearby and barely managed to shout a quick “North!” before he was being roughly deposited in what felt like an armchair. He definitely was no longer in his lair.

A pair of massive hands dropped onto his shoulders and Pitch immediately tried to bend away, kicking violently. His first thoughts were of betrayal, that the truce had simply been a means to get him to lower his guard, that the Guardians had finally made their move to destroy him, that the Tsar had at last decided it was time to finish what his parents had started eons ago-

“Nicolas St. North I swear if you don’t get this thing off of me in five seconds I’ll-“ Pitch cut himself off as the thick sack that had been pulled over his head was yanked off and light immediately blinded his sensitive eyes. Before he could rise to his feet he was being sat back down again by the same powerful hands, which held him still as his eyes painstakingly adjusted to the warm glow of the workshop, or, more accurately, the office judging by the intricate ice sculpture sprawling over the desk in front of Pitch.

This early into the new year, Pitch wasn’t surprised that the sounds of the workshop were almost completely quiet beyond the elegantly carved door behind him, and as he looked out the large window in front of him he was fiercely grateful to have been kidnapped during the middle of the polar night.

Twisting around to glare at his captor, Pitch summoned his most bloodthirsty snarl. “What is the meaning of this, North? Why did you bring me here? And how the hell did you get into my lair?!” He roared as the Cossack released him slowly and walked around to Pitch’s front.

“Meh. Snow globe, flashlight, and climbing rope.” North explained offhandedly with a shrug. He made no attempts to conceal the sabers at his sides. His sleeves were pushed up and Pitch had an excellent view of the tattoos that decorated his forearms with the way his arms were crossed. “You are here to make explanation. Fearling tells me interesting secret.” He told Pitch sternly, his expression hardening.

“What am I to be explaining about? What fearling?” Pitch demanded angrily, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his nails scored the wood. His body was twitching with unspent adrenaline that left him fighting not to leap out of his seat and attack. Had it not been for North’s sabers he would have done so in a heartbeat.

Slowly, North uncrossed his arms and waved one beefy hand towards a nearby shelf filled with toys and trinkets, the movement making Pitch flinch. A spot looked like it had been cleared recently to make room for a large dome shaped cloche made of a dark, dull metal. Lead, Pitch recognized the substance instantly.

Without further hesitation, North lifted the cloche and revealed the small cage that had been hidden beneath it. The lead prison was no larger than an elf, and left very little room for its occupant.

The fearling lifted its head and let of a shrill whine, like the keen of a distressed infant, as it reached out to wrap long sinuous fingers around the lead bars. It stretched a hand towards its king longingly, whispering like a child until North lowered the cloche over the cage again, cutting off its distraught screech as it was concealed.

“It was found by elves at snack table during New Year’s party. I had been waiting for you to retrieve it. You did not know this?” North asked curiously at the perplexed expression on Pitch’s face.

“I was not aware that one of them had gotten loose. Did it cause any damage?” Pitch questioned slowly, still racking his brain for the right answers. Unfortunately the only memories that came up were the ones involving… her.

“Nyet. It spilled many snacks and knocked over punch bowl, but yeti managed to catch it before it ran off. Sandy should have told you this.” North explained offhandedly, frowning at the Bogeyman’s sudden scowl. “Must have slipped his mind.” Was all he said in reply. That damn Dreamweaver. Who knows what else the little dream fart forgot to tell him while he was peeping on everyone’s dirty dreams?

North waved away the response easily, “That is not important part. What fearling told me is important part, yes?” he reminded Pitch, a certain edge entering his voice. Pitch looked up at the man skeptically.

“Yes, you mentioned that earlier. I’m sure you are familiar with fearlings and the tricks they pull. They have no concept of ‘boundaries’ so don’t expect me to apologize for whose voices they used or whatever words they said.” Pitch grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking into the chair slightly. _If this turns out to be North overreacting to a pathetic fearling trick-_

“I am familiar with fearlings.” North dismissed gruffly. “I do not like what I heard from this one, but I feel it is needing explanation.”

Pitch made eye contact with the man suspiciously. “No one ever does. Get to the point, Cossack.” He pressed impatiently, narrowing his eyes. North shuffled under the gaze but never looked away.

“Fearling told me something happened at party. Something between you and Tooth.” North said at last, giving Pitch an insightful look that made it clear he knew exactly what had happened. Pitch blanched so rapidly he felt his head swim and saw the room blur.

“Don’t tell me you honestly believe it, do you?” he rasped, trying to keep his head clear.

North gave him another knowing look; “I know I was not seeing either of you for most of night. And you missed big countdown.” He explained, folding his arms across his chest. “I am wanting confirmation. Fearling was not very clear in explanation…” He trailed off slowly

“How _exactly_ did the fearling explain it?” Pitch hissed, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Whether it was from anger or from some other, more obscure emotion, Pitch only knew it was making his throat close up and his chest feel tight. North hesitated for a moment, eyeing Pitch wearily with wise eyes that Pitch suddenly itched to gouge out.

“I have not spoken with Tooth yet, I hear you to tell story first. When fearling spoke it implied-“

“You think I raped her, don’t you?” Pitch interrupted quietly, digging his nails into his palms to keep from shaking. It might have only made it worse for all the effect it had.

North noticed the tremors in an instant. “I did not say that.” He corrected gently. He sounded so careful with his words that it made Pitch sick.

“But you’re thinking it, aren’t you?” Pitch challenged angrily, holding up a finger to silence North before he could interrupt. “I can see it in your eyes. You honestly believe I’m so much of a monster that I’d choose to defile someone in that way?!” he accused, his voice rising in volume as he stood quickly enough to surprise North into backing away.

North gave the lead cloche a pointed glance, raising an eyebrow at the Nightmare King, unconvinced.

Pitch’s throat went dry. “That… That is different and you know it, North. It’s the same as death for them. Fearlings have no memories of their time spent as children.” His words shook and he could feel his breath getting shallower. That was different. _They_ were different. _They were completely different_ , turning a child into a fearling and raping a woman. What North was comparing it to… he felt ill. Surely he couldn’t have. He was still weak from his most recent defeat, and drunk or not Toothiana was a warrior queen and a Guardian to boot. There was no way he could have overpowered her. Right?

“It is just a concern I have. She is good friend.” North assured him, all lies as far as Pitch was concerned. “I will be asking Tooth as well, perhaps she-“

“No! You will do nothing of the sort!” Pitch shrieked. North looked alarmed by his outburst and Pitch hastily scrambled for an explanation.

“We promised not to let anyone find out, Toothiana and I. If you ask her anything she’ll think _I_ was the one that told you. She doesn’t want anyone to know, you and the other Guardians included, so for her sake _keep your bloody mouth shut!_ ” Pitch all but screamed the last few words, his breath coming hard as he glowered at the Cossack malignantly.

“Pitch, I had to ask. That is all. I did not mean to upset you.” North soothed after a moment, his eyes weary, as though he were expecting an attack. Pitch cringed at the tender note in the man’s voice.

“I’m not upset!” He hissed defensively, baring his teeth. “I am _annoyed_ that the reason I was so rudely kidnapped was this trivial load of garbage.” He spat acidly as he stalked over to the cloche and flung it aside, uncaring of the frightening crash it made as it hit the floor. He was more upset with his lapse of control than of the accusation, and he would reiterate this as many times as it took until he believed it.

Pitch snapped his fingers impatiently at North as he looked over the locked cage that held his fearling. “Give me the key, unless you’d like to keep it as a pet. I’m sure it’d make a fine Christmas elf.”

“You may keep fearling. It was not very nice to the elves. I do not think they would get along well.” North replied, dropping the key into Pitch’s outstretched hand. Pitch snorted humorlessly.

“A pity. I would have liked to see it dressed up.” Pitch opened the cage and held out his hand to the fearling, which latched onto his arm and crawled into the crook of his elbow, nestling there comfortably as he drew it against his chest. He coolly ignored the groping fingers that played with the front of his robe as the fearling clucked and cooed deceptively. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if he held an ordinary baby in his arms. He did everything in his power to keep the fearling in sight.

“Who else knows about this?” Pitch demanded, turning to face North.

“I have not told elves or yeti, and fearling has been in office entire time.” North assured him with a shrug, still tense from Pitch’s aggressive expression, his hands resting on his hips near the hilts of his sabers.

“Good. Keep it that way. I don’t-“ Pitch’s words were cut off by a hesitant knock on the door. North sucked in a quick breath.

“The yeti do not know you are here. Hide yourself quickly.” He directed, ushering Pitch behind a desk, much to Pitch’s vexation.

“Oh I’ll do much better than that. I’m leaving. If I ever catch you in my lair unannounced again, I’ll replace every last one of your elves with fearlings. The same goes for the yeti too if you breathe a word of this to anyone.” Pitch sneered, ducking into a shadowed corner and disappearing.

Pitch could hear the fearling in his shadow hissing filthy things in the voice of a child, and as much as it abhorred him to indulge in the topic, doubt had already lodged itself in his head. He wasn’t _that_ kind of monster. He just wasn’t.

He was fine with being considered fiend, but there was definitely a distinction he preferred. That was all. It certainly had nothing to do with the sudden gnawing in his gut that most assuredly was _not_ guilt. He just wanted to know whether what the fearling said was true or not. For _posterity,_ obviously. Definitely not for the impending wave of emotion he felt threatening to break over him that absolutely _wasn’t_ filled with shame and disgust.

But he couldn’t remember a damn thing other than the way her body-

Pitch broke the train of thought before it could begin with a frustrated growl as he reappeared in his lair.

He would have to ask her himself.

Pitch slipped silently through the dark, traveling deeper into his lair than he had gone in centuries, crushing the fearling in one too-tight fist. It was there, in a massive cavern that certainly rivaled that of Bunnymund’s Warren, that he kept his most loathsome minions.

Lead cages were strung with chains from the far away ceiling, carved into walls, or set out on the ground where there was still room to be had, and inside them all milky white eyes gleamed feverishly from between the bars.

The dream pirates made the biggest stir, howling and cackling like rabid apes at his approach, rattling the bars of their cells in a deafening chorus.

The fearlings were subtler in their greetings, but not by much. They chittered and giggled excitedly, reaching to brush their fingers against the hem of Pitch’s robe lovingly.

The nightmare men were the most bearable in Pitch’s opinion. Tall, silent shapes were wavering ominously from within their cages, silently acknowledging their king with the softest murmurs and brushes of their incorporeal forms.

Pitch strode past it all without so much as a passing glance, navigating with ease in the total darkness to a thick lead box with a heavy lid. There were no bars on this cell. No gaps at all in fact. Fearlings hated to be separated from the swarm. On their own they were vulnerable and weak. Pitch used this to his advantage at times.

“I’m not happy with what you told North.” He said calmly to the fearling in his grasp. It blinked up at him incomprehensively with disturbingly wide, watery eyes. “You were just doing what you were meant to do, I know, but I am not happy all the same. Those were not the type of rumors I want being spread. I am sorry. One hundred years time out in the box.” He sentenced grimly, indifferent to the fearling’s mournful wail of dismay as it was lowered into the lead box. Pitch shut the lid and locked the box before straightening his robes. Around him his minions oooed at the punishment and screeched mockingly, but he had long since learned to tune them out.

Pitch left for the Tooth Palace before he could change his mind about it, hunkering down in one of the most sheltered shadows he could find to glare at his surroundings through heavily squinted eyes.

As his eyes adjusted, Pitch sarcastically congratulated himself for finding the only bed in the Tooth Palace. He peeked out from under its low frame, nothing more than a pair of eyes glinting from an unnatural darkness, and winced at the light.

The bed didn’t leave much space for a corporal form but it certainly made a deep shadow, and the wood was a shade of dark umber that appealed to him despite the persistent theme of gilded gold. He was willing to bet that, if he looked, there would be a richly woven canopy of drapes hung around the mattress. Not that he wanted to look of course. It was still too bright for him.

Restricted to his spot under the bed, Pitch had little else to do besides peer at the room in fascination and ignore the stabbing pains the light gave his eyes. He had been more preoccupied with the tooth boxes and fairies during his last visit, and hadn’t seen where the Tooth Fairy kept her personal belongings. He had plenty of time now though, as she was no doubt still directing her fairies.

Toothiana’s room was pitiably unembellished in comparison to the rest of her palace. Pitch was disappointed really, what with all the gold-plated lotus patterns, sparkling jewels, and intricate spiraling shapes, he had to admit he expected a bit more from the room than this.

The walls were curved, following the round shape of the tower that enclosed it, and other than a positively massive circular window gaping in the wall across the room there was no visible entrance. No doors to speak of.

Shuffling to look out from a different side of the bed, Pitch could glimpse a decently sized cabinet with a lock that might have held clothes, not that he remembered seeing Toothiana wearing any in recent decades. Then again, clothes must be uncomfortable when she was already covered in feathers. And it would be a waste to cover up such lovely feathers with comparatively drab garments that would ultimately succeed only in rumpling them, he mused dully.

If he stretched a little further Pitch identified the hilt of one of Toothiana’s scimitars atop the cabinet on a display, its sister unseen but most assuredly by its side. That was a bit more expected of her, keeping weapons in the same room she slept in.

Aside from the bed and cabinet, a few bejeweled wall lamps, and an admittedly captivating mural that covered the walls seamlessly with birds and treasures and other such themes, there wasn’t much to be had in terms of personal possessions. There wasn’t even a mirror. Overall it was decorated, but ultimately it was plain.

Being the Tooth Fairy must not leave time for much else, he figured unsympathetically. It made sense, he supposed, once he gave it a bit of thought. The Tooth Fairy was a fairly common story by now, and brats were always loosing teeth. He himself was responsible for a few unexpected face-plants that led to a lost tooth as a terrified child tried to leave their bed a bit faster than their little body could keep up with. _Back when they still believed_ , his traitorous mind added venomously, throwing an appropriate dash of bitterness into his mood.

With a huff that blew a cloud of dust into his eyes, Pitch found himself comfortable position and waited for night to fall.

He passed the time observing the mural on the wall, what parts of it he could see, and had been re-examining the depiction of a man being shot by an arrow beside a large hummingbird for the umpteenth time when he caught the first snatches of the Tooth Fairy’s voice.

Huddling deeper into the shadows, the sun no doubt sinking below the horizon judging by the lighting, he froze as Toothiana flew into the room, feeling a sudden flare of fear that he was quick to pass off as caution.

How exactly did he plan to approach this without being stabbed? He was fast, but Toothiana was faster, and for once he very much did _not_ want the element of surprise. He was the last person she would expect, and the first person she’d want to swing a blade at. It was not a good situation for conversation if he was facing dismemberment for intruding, which he wasn’t actually used to, quite frankly. It was second nature for him to hide in a person’s bedroom, but he’d forgotten that it was only safe as long as he stayed hidden. It was a very personal space after all.

But how the bloody hell else was he supposed to speak with her? Walk past a swarm of vengeful fairies and knock on the door, which she did not in fact have he might add, and convince her to let one of her oldest enemies in?

Actually… now that he thought about it, it seemed like a plausible enough idea. Better than his current plan to simply appear in her bedroom without explanation. But before he could amend his approach there was an ear-splitting screech as a mini fairy found his hiding spot and dived straight for his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't post this today, but I gave myself an aggressive pep-talk at an ungodly hour as I was going to sleep and convinced myself to finish the editing/rewrite today. 
> 
> Also, I feel like this is something that needs to be clarified:
> 
> Both Pitch and Toothiana are way past any legal age to drink alcohol or consent to sex, and since neither one of them were coerced into getting drunk by each other with the intent to have sex, technically neither one of them can be held accountable for an alleged rape. Pitch was just as drunk, if not more drunk than Tooth, and he damn well didn't plan for any of this to happen. Thus explaining the "Dubious Consent" tag. 
> 
> I have even more respect for fanfiction authors than I used to, now that I've been trying to write one of my own. Like holy hell, how the fudge do you guys do this so well? Writing is fudging hard. 
> 
> Additional clarification:
> 
> Yes, fudge is my swear word. I do not have a problem with the word I am substituting, I just got used to censoring myself ridiculously and now I'm stuck. 
> 
> That is all. (Don't judge my fudge)


	7. Chapter 7

“AGH!”

Toothiana dived for her scimitars on instinct at the yelp of alarm that had accompanied Baby Tooth’s unexpected battle cry. Her entire bed shifted slightly as the shadows underneath it spat out a slightly rumpled, dusty, and very much enraged mini fairy screeching for blood.

“ _Pitch?!_ ” Toothiana paused with one scimitar halfway drawn from its sheath as her mind caught up with her. “What in the name of MiM are you doing in my room? And why are you under my bed?!” She shouted, unsheathing the entire blade with an impressive ring of steel.

“Well I _was_ hiding.” Came the sullen reply, “Your palace gets an awful amount of sun.” Pitch had yet to emerge from his hiding spot.

“Have… Have you been spying on me? How long have you been in here?!” Toothiana yelled, her feathers rising in alarm as she fluttered closer to her bed.

“I got here an hour ago. I haven't left this room, I swear.” Pitch said quickly, and she could see the shadows swirling like smoke.

“Then what are you doing here?” She snarled back, considering whether jabbing her sword under the bed could hurt him.

“I need to ask you something…” he began hesitantly. “It’s about what happened at New Year’s.”

Toothiana forced herself to relax her grip on the scimitar. That hadn’t been what she was expecting. They’d agreed not to talk about it, hadn’t they? Unless he thought she had told someone. But the only other people who knew were Baby Tooth and Phil.

She didn’t trust Pitch enough to lower her guard, but this was the first time she knew of that he had ever actively tried to visit one of the Guardians without being dragged there, so she may as well listen to what he had to say. She sighed heavily as Baby Tooth flew up to sit on her shoulder, trailing dust from her feathers. Toothiana huffed and glared viciously at the dark space under her bed.

“Alright, fine. Get out from under there so we can talk.” She said at last, lowering her blade slowly. She didn’t enjoy the feeling of speaking to him without a face to look at. Light danced along the ground as it bounced from her scimitar while she eyed the floor wearily in anticipation.

There was a long pause and no sign of Pitch.

“Well? Come out.” Toothiana ordered sternly, a bit impatient.

“… I can’t. You’ll stab me.” Pitch’s voice was just shy of a mumble. Toothiana glanced at her sword, perplexed, and frowned.

“I’m not going to stab you. See, look, I’m sheathing the blade.” She set the sheath down at her feet where Pitch could see it and slid the scimitar in before fluttering backwards.

“What about the other one?” Pitch asked suspiciously.

Toothiana huffed in annoyance but grabbed the other scimitar from her cabinet and set it beside the first.

“Better?”

“Don’t hit me either.”

“Would you just-“ She broke herself off with a scowl and took a calming breath, clinging to her patience. She couldn’t blame him for being careful. “ Fine. I won’t hit you either.” She bit out through gritted teeth.

“…And could you close the curtains maybe? The sunlight…” His voice trailed off and Tooth yanked the curtains shut over the window with a growl of frustration. They didn’t offer much in terms of coverage, being made of thin, almost transparent silk, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

Turning back to the bed she saw that Pitch was finally beginning to emerge, glancing around cautiously like a mouse leaving its hole.

Long spindly arms reached out first, fingers digging into the floor as his body began to squeeze from the impossibly narrow gap. He pulled himself across the floor as though the rest of his body weighed nothing, and from the shoulders down he appeared unnaturally flat under his robe. The manner with which he moved was so fluid that it seemed he was using his arms was just for show. Toothiana had a gnawing suspicion that he could slide along on his belly like a snake if he needed to, and in true snake-like fashion Pitch slithered the entire way out on his stomach, only rising once his feet were clear.

As he stood, his robe filled out appropriately until he no longer looked like he had been run over by a steamroller, and the hem of his trailing cloak took to blending seamlessly with the weak shadows that the curtains provided. The entire progression had been nearly soundless, save for the subtlest whispers of his body brushing the floor, and Tooth hesitantly pictured how the process must seem to a child huddling in their blankets watching from above.

It was far from pleasant, and she failed to conceal the shudder it brought on, which ruffled her feathers as it traveled up her spine. The movement caught Pitch’s eye and the way his gaze fixed on the rising feathers made it worse.

She smoothed her sides self-consciously; trying to ignore the downright predatory focus Pitch was giving her and wishing she had her scimitars. But, of course, they were on the floor out of reach, placed there because Pitch thought she would hurt him with them. She wished he would do the same with his weapons, if only they weren’t attached to him.

“What did you want to ask?” She demanded firmly, ignoring the way her voice cracked as she spoke. She glanced up and blinked at the unexpected change in attitude she observed from Pitch.

His jaw tightened and he suddenly refused to look at her. Pitch seemed much more interested in cataloging the furniture in her room, or examining the texture of the walls and floor, he scarcely even looked in her direction. “Ah. That. Yes, well…”

Toothiana frowned, finding the courage to look at the Nightmare king a little harder. “Yes. That. What did you want to ask?” She repeated, crossing her arms as she hovered just a little bit higher.

Pitch seemed to cringe, crossing his arms tightly as his evasive glances quickened. His feet shuffled under his robe as if he were trying to decide whether he should walk around or stand still. If she didn’t know any better she would have assumed he was nervous about something. But this was _Pitch_. He didn’t _get_ nervous. Right?

“On second thought, I think it’d be better if I just left. I’m sure we’re both very busy-“

“You’re not going anywhere until you ask me what you came here to ask.” Toothiana interrupted, darting in front of him as he turned to walk into the nearest shadow. She surprised him even more than she surprised herself. He flinched back, arms raised defensively to fend off an attack that Toothiana still had half a mind to give him. His eyes shifted to the side when she tried to make eye contact and Toothiana adjusted her flight to intercept the glance.

“Spit it out.” She commanded, her mind suddenly recalling a time back when she had first begun her duties as the tooth fairy. A young boy had knocked out a tooth and refused to open his mouth to show her. It turned out the boy had accidently swallowed it and was worried that she would be upset. She’d gotten the tooth eventually, now she just hoped Pitch hadn’t swallowed whatever it was he intended to ask. They way his lips thinned as he pressed them together was almost identical to the way the boy’s lips had.

Pitch shuffled in place, and she could almost see the internal debate raging in the flickering light of his eyes as he stared off to one side blankly. His hands were fidgeting at his sides and the grey on his face was definitely a few shades darker than it should have been, maybe even a little… purple? _Is that what Jack meant when he said Pitch could blush?_ She wondered curiously.

After what might have been minutes Pitch seemed to come to a conclusion, finally looking Toothiana in the eye and for once she didn’t feel the urge to look away.

“Alright fine, but I’m only asking because I want to be sure of something and have no memory of it myself. Understand?” He snapped sharply. She could almost feel him trying to loom over her but she kept hovering at his eye level.

“And you can’t hit me for it either.” He added quickly as an afterthought, a note of panic entering his voice.

She gave him a small nod and silently gestured for him to continue.

Pitch sucked in a breath, practically twitching with nervous energy. She tried to recall where she’d seen this in him before, but no memories surfaced. She had never seen him look openly anxious. It was only after another long pause that he spoke.

“Did I rape you?”

Toothiana blinked once. Twice. Three times. And stared dumbfounded at the strangely anxious expression Pitch wore. There was a light of desperation in his eyes as he searched her face for answers.

“Well?” He snipped impatiently. She could hear the tension in his throat.

“…Why do you care?”

“Pardon?”

“I said why do you care? It’s-“ not like him? Odd? Out of character? “-different.” Toothiana frowned suspiciously. _That_ was what he was so anxious about?

“I don’t care!” He sounded shocked, taking a step back as he placed a hand against his chest, looking offended by the very idea. “What on earth gave you that impression?”

Toothiana narrowed her eyes, “Well I didn’t expect you to ask. I didn’t think you cared.” She replied honestly.

“I don’t!” he insisted rapidly, and suddenly it was as though she were addressing a defensive child. Thanks to Jack, she was slowly remembering how children worked, and to her Pitch was reminiscent of an embarrassed child stubbornly denying what she already knew. A child that would probably kill her if she told him about it.

“Just… just answer the question! Did I rape you, yes or no?” Pitch bit out stringently, his fists clenched.

“No, not to my memory. We were both drunk and I’m pretty sure neither one of us meant for it to happen.” Toothiana answered bluntly, still staring at Pitch in interest, waiting to see what incredibly unexpected thing he’d do next. He did not disappoint.

“So I didn’t… Hurt you at all?” Pitch asked cautiously, his eyes raking her body as though searching for signs of injury. His hands seemed to rise slightly as though his body were subtly readying itself for an attack.

“Considering how our encounters used to go, no, not really.” Toothiana replied, becoming more and more bewildered by the minute. She’d sustained bruises far worse in battle than she had in bed. If anything, she should have been the one to ask Pitch. She was pretty sure her nails had drawn blood. The concern was a bit touching actually, coming from him. But it was a bit dubious as well for the same reason.

“And I didn’t… Force you into anything, either?” He added as though reading from a mental list of questions he’d composed.

“According to Baby Tooth, I was on top, so I doubt it.” It was rather amusing to see the downright scandalized expression that flitted across Pitch’s face at her words, which almost made them worth his next question.

“Who is Baby Tooth?” He demanded, still blushing madly. It really was strange to see him blush.

“One of my fairies saw us during the party.” Toothiana explained, gesturing to Baby Tooth as the mini fairy squeaked indignantly, a tiny blush of her own coloring her cheeks. “Don’t worry. She won’t tell anyone.” she reassured him before he could speak.

Pitch was silent for several moments, shuffling uncertainly in place under the intense glare Baby Tooth was giving him. He cleared his throat, looking away finally. “Right, well… I’d best be going before she tries to gouge my eyes out again.” He eyed Baby Tooth suspiciously as he sidestepped back towards the bed, trying to get to the shadows underneath it. Toothiana flew in front of him again.

“Hold on, our conversation isn’t done yet.” She said firmly, emboldened by the open weariness in Pitch’s eyes as he backed away quickly.

“It’s not?” He asked blankly, uncomprehending.

“No, it’s not. I have a few questions for you myself. Starting with: Has Jack returned your pants yet?” Toothiana asked coyly, raising an eyebrow at him. If she knew Jack, he probably hadn’t.

“Excuse me- my _what_? Why would he have my pants?” Pitch sputtered in confusion, drawing himself to his admittedly impressive full height, as though unsure whether she had insulted him or not. Toothiana sighed softly. She’d have to tell him about Phil, it seemed.

“Jack apparently found your pants outside your lair and figured out most of what happened, he doesn’t know that I was the one with you thankfully. A note fell out of them when he came to visit me. Phil- one of North’s yetis- found them at the workshop and tried to return them. I’m not sure how much Phil knows, but if he found them in the guestroom North gave me then he might have a pretty good idea of what happened.” She explained sheepishly, flattening the feathers of one arm when they started to rise again. Pitch slowly deflated in dismay.

“Also, did Jack really walk in on you taking a bath? Because-“ she cut herself off as Pitch groaned and covered his eyes with one hand, looking severely pained. Toothiana swerved to one side as Pitch walked past her to pace the length of the room agitatedly. Something about him moving gave her a bit of a start. Standing still, he blended with his environment almost enough to relax around. Moving, he was a prowling threat, even if he didn’t mean to be. She was used to seeing him as he circled his hapless prey, and it took a conscious reminder not to be alarmed by the familiar walk. His passage pulled the shadows towards him, caught in an unseen gravity that seemed as subliminal as his pacing. There was an ever-present twitch in his step that kept Toothiana from being able to hover in one place comfortably, so she followed him back and forth warily.

“Great, so that little brat knows. And no, he did not _walk_ in on me, he _fell_ _on top of me,_ riding a nightmare of all things.” He growled through his teeth, the admittance almost startling a laugh out of Toothiana’s mouth in spite of herself, which she covered quickly.

“And a yeti, you said? Fantastic, now North has someone to laugh with.” Pitch continued, pinching the bridge of his nose as he reached the end of room and spun crisply on his heel to walk back the way he came, nearly bowling over Toothiana in the process. She tucked up her arms and legs, the tips of her wings brushing the wall as she avoided the near collision. Pitch didn’t spare her a glance. Apparently nothing was more important than his patrol across the room.

“North? What does he-“

“Oh, right, I probably should tell you. North knows. A bloody fearling told him, and he believed it.” Pitch stated matter-of-factly, lowering the hand from his face.

“I see… so-“ Toothiana began, her mind reeling at the abruptly given information, only to be interrupted again.

“Sanderson knows as well.” Pitch looked suitably disturbed by the fact, crossing his arms and glaring heatedly at the wall. The shadows writhed under his feet in response to his mood, subtly reminding Toothiana who it was that controlled them. She didn’t want to know what violent thoughts were passing through his head at that moment.

“How does Sandy know?” She prompted, feeling a twinge of anger warring with her uneasiness at the look of guilt that flashed quickly across Pitch’s face.

“Before you jump to conclusions, no I did not tell him.” Pitch started quickly, pausing his pacing and glancing away with a cough as the curious blush reclaimed his cheeks. “I may have… unintentionally… _dreamt_ about the encounter…”

Toothiana felt her own face heat up as Baby Tooth left her shoulder with a disconcerted squeak of exasperation and fled the room-- something along the lines of "I can not believe you two are having this conversation".

“Y-you did what?” Toothiana stammered in a strangled voice, torn between a laugh and a shout. She wanted to be upset, she really did, but that situation was too amusing for her to be completely angry. Besides, she trusted Sandy not to tell. He couldn’t be held accountable for what a person dreamed, and he was very good about keeping those things to himself.

“Don’t look at me like that! It was an accident! And it’s not as though he can say anything about it.” Pitch exclaimed hastily, waving off her gaze like it had a physical presence. “It was his fault anyway. I was just trying to sleep off the damn hangover. I would have been perfectly fine with a nightmare or two but Sanderson just _had_ to go and give me a _good_ dream instead.” He started pacing again, hands flying distractedly with his words. He was ranting, it seemed, and Toothiana was hard pressed to get his attention. It was like trying to push a freight train off its tracks as it rushed by.

“I didn’t even need the dream in the first place! He could have just left me be but _no~_ , he just had to go and-“

“Pitch.”

“-Damn bleeding heart of his. And why did he have to stay and _watch_? I don’t even remember half the things he puts in my dreams most of the time. Why did I have to remember this one? Why couldn’t he have just-“

“ _Pitch_.”

“-with the bloody butterflies that he seems so fond of giving me? This whole mess is his fault. And Jack’s too. Dragging me out of my lair and letting me get drunk like that. How was _I_ supposed to know I’d end up-“

“ _Pitch!_ ” Toothiana shouted, grabbing his head as he strode past to get him to hold still. He almost kept walking for a few steps, only registering her hands holding tight on either side of his head when it was yanked backwards. He made a curious choking sort of noise like a scream caught in his throat, and may as well have turned to stone when his entire body stiffened under her palms. She was almost certain she’d petrified him when he stayed ramrod straight after she removed her hands.

“Save the monologue for another time, alright? I’ve got work to get back to soon, and your visit is cutting into my break.” Toothiana said sternly, fluttering around to Pitch’s front. She only caught the final bits of his stunned expression as he recomposed himself.

“Ah... right. I suppose you do.” Pitch clipped awkwardly, straightening his already immaculate robe busily. “I’ll just… be going then.” He added haltingly, turning back towards her bed quickly.

“Oh, Pitch? I forgot one thing.” Toothiana called just as the shadow was beginning to draw him in.

“What is it this time-“

_Smack!_

Toothiana slapped him hard across the face as he turned to look back at her. She shook out her dainty fingers nonchalantly as he stared at her dumbstruck, one hand clutching the cheek where her handprint was slowly appearing, the other gripping the edge of her bed for support.

“That was for sneaking into my room. Next time, just tell my mini fairies you’re here and they’ll let me know. If I catch you in here again without permission you’ll be getting a lot more than twenty-five cents.” She told him in the sweetest voice she could manage without giggling at the downright astonished look of disbelief on his face. He swallowed and nodded mutely, his eyes never leaving hers as he sunk back under the bed. When the oppressive weight lifted from her chest, she peeked under the bed. Finding nothing but ordinary shadows and dust she smirked and straightened with a sigh. As she was picking up her scimitars she paused.

He’d had a dream about her. A _good_ dream, he’d said. And he’d looked so _flustered_ too. Now that was a look she would like to see on his face more often. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Pitch reappeared in his lair and fell back on his throne limply, weak with relief. His cheek stung fiercely, but it was better than a punch, some part of his mind murmured. His hands shook when he lowered them.

She hadn’t stabbed him. She’d even let him keep all of his teeth, and she’d slapped him rather than punched him. That had gone much better than he thought it would, if he were honest with himself for once. And wait…

“Next time…” She’d said. As in the next visit? Why on Earth would he want to visit again?! She’d slapped him! After he’d explicitly told her not to!

 _Well… You did deserve it. And it isn’t as though you didn’t expect worse._ That traitorous little voice whispered in his ear, making Pitch clench his teeth in annoyance because it was right. It was always right. And damn if he didn’t hate when it was right. The slap hurt though, even if it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, and he was fiercely grateful of the dark in his lair when he imagined the mark she must have left.

At least he was still alive, he mused at last, rising from the throne to seek out a more comfortable place to sit. He walked past Onyx on his way to his private retreat, and the thought of curling in an armchair with a book momentarily left him as he remembered that other piece of information Toothiana had given him.

“Onyx.” The nightmare cringed at being discovered and poked her head into full view from behind the rocky pillar she had been sneaking behind.

“Did Frost happen to return with a pair of pants while I was away?” he asked in a frightfully soft voice that Onyx knew better than to trust.

After a great deal of hesitant scuffing Onyx finally nodded, disappearing behind the pillar for a moment before returning with a scrap of shadow in her teeth. Pitch held back a sigh as the pants were tossed haphazardly at his feet while Onyx hastened to hide herself again. She was still afraid of him from his little “outburst” after Jack had left, it seemed. He didn’t blame her of course, but she should know by now that he wasn’t about to dispel a valuable companion over something so trivial. He was above taking his anger out on her. That was what the fearlings were for.

Pitch stooped to pick up the pants and turned to continue noiselessly down the path towards his retreat.

Onyx was a clever girl. She’d warm up to him again eventually, like she always did. Like Jack always did too.

In the meantime there were a few books set aside that he had been itching to read, and a new film from that charming little human franchise _Star Wars,_ that demanded his attention. With those in mind to look forward to, Pitch found it in himself to chuckle at the delicate handprint standing starkly against his cheek when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far in the story. It's a little surreal and I still haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm doing. For the record, I'm not an aspiring writer, I just read a lot of fanfiction and then this happened. School is starting up soon so we'll see if I can motivate myself to get the next chapter done in time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who blatantly disregarded their homework to write fanfiction? I must have written this chapter five different ways, trying to figure out what I was doing. It was a mess. I hope this was worth the wait.

When Pitch had left the Tooth Palace a week ago, he could scarcely believe his luck that Toothiana had let him go (relatively) unscathed. By the time that the bruise on his cheek faded, he had almost been able to put the entire incident in the back of his mind, until a certain winged pest saw fit to remind him at every turn.

Tooth fairies were well traveled by nature, and with thousands of them scouring the globe for lost teeth it wasn’t unexpected to run into one or two of them a night. But when one of them decided to abandon her mission of collecting teeth in favor of dive-bombing the Bogeyman like a fighter jet at the drop of a hat, Pitch was rather unprepared.

It wasn’t a one-time affair, either. _Somehow_ it kept happening. The fairy (Pitch was beginning to suspect that she was the same one each time) chased him from every bedroom she found him in, with such an alarming frequency, that Pitch began to wonder if she was following him.

At first Pitch elected to ignore the little vermin in favor of enjoying the precious drops of fear he could find under the Sandman’s, and the Man in the Moon’s frustrating watch. But after the third time the fairy’s squeaks threatened to wake up the child he was visiting, Pitch was becoming a little irritated. If it weren’t for the truce he would have fed the scrap of fluff to Onyx and been done with the mess. But, with the threat of the entire Tooth Fairy army and its queen, the fairy remained disappointingly uneaten.

And Pitch only had so much patience.

“Would you _stop that_?!” Pitch snapped loudly enough to wake the toddler he’d been attempting to scare. The fairy looked infuriatingly smug as the boy bolted from the room, and Pitch struggled not to crush her in his hands right then and there.

“There isn’t even a tooth for you here! Leave me alone!”

The fairy blew a wet raspberry and hurled the coin she had been carrying at him like a Frisbee. Pitch ducked hastily and heard it hit the wall behind him with a musical _ping_.

It was only the sound of the boy returning with his parents in tow that spared the fairy from a grisly end as Pitch growled and retreated into the shadows, reappearing in the shade of the next house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t even allowed a moment’s reprieve from what had quite literally become the newest thorn in his side.

“ _OW!”_ Pitch slapped a hand over where he’d felt the latest prick from the fairy’s sharp nose--why’d she have to aim for his neck? The beast had been following him into the shadows! Pitch stared at her in shock, trying to comprehend the stupidity of such a bold tactic as she squeaked and squealed at him aggressively.

“What do you want from me? Did Toothiana put you up to this, or do you just hate me that much?” Pitch snarled, waving a fist at the fairy in an attempt to shoo her away. The offended sounding squeak he received in response did nothing to answer his questions.

“Is this because I snuck into the Tooth Palace? I said I was sorry didn’t I?” Pitch exclaimed in exasperation, blinking as the fairy darted in to hover frightfully close to his face, crossing her arms and shaking her head in an accusatory way that almost said _“no, you didn’t”_. He scowled deeply.

“I didn’t?”

The fairy nodded sharply.

“Oh. So you want me to apologize, is that it?”

The fairy whistled noncommittally.

“Well I’m not going to. If I went around apologizing for every bad thing I’ve done, I’d be at it all year. So I suggest you buzz off before I have something else to apologize for.” He cooed sweetly enough to make an entire mouth of teeth rot as he stepped around the mini fairy to walk towards another shadow. It took all of his willpower not to lash out when a retaliatory jab in the back of the neck stopped him in his tracks.

“Why you little-“

“Pitch?”

Pitch restrained himself from jumping at the familiar voice. He scraped together a jagged grin as he turned away from the mini fairy, hiding his hands behind his back impulsively.

“Toothiana. Out and about, I see.” He greeted stiffly, feeling his mood plummet when he saw whom it was. The Tooth Fairy was hovering on the edge of the house’s shadow, a cylindrical case bouncing against each hip from a sturdy gold belt. She was frowning at him and he saw the way her eyes flicked over his shoulder briefly. She crossed her arms as her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Are you harassing my fairies, Pitch?” She demanded slowly, and he mentally prepared himself for a fight at the “mother bear” he could see in her eyes.

“Who, me? I wouldn’t _dream_ of interfering with your oh-so-important duties.” He averred reverently, his voice dripping with mock innocence. He was in far too sour a mood to play nice that night, his nerves were frayed enough already. Behind him the mini fairy chirped something no doubt incriminating, judging by the way Toothiana’s face hardened.

“Oh?” She said icily, not missing a beat.

“Absolutely.” He insisted dramatically, “I merely wanted to remind the little one that she really ought to be doing her _job_.” he shot the fairy pointed a glare.

“Is that so?” Toothiana glanced over at the mini fairy again. “Well, I do hope she isn’t being a bother. I’d hate to disrupt your brooding. It is _so_ important, after all.” She replied disdainfully. Pitch’s smile teetered dangerously on the beginnings of a snarl, his shadow bristling subtly at the insult.

“You would know all about brooding. Do tell me, what brings the hen so far from her nest? Run out of eggs to incubate?” Pitch crooned, tilting his head in false concern. He tensed at the dark expression that passed over her face. He was too busy watching his front to expect an attack from behind and yelped, leaping into the air when the mini fairy plunged her beak into his back.

In the instant it took for him to compose himself, Toothiana had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the moonlight. Her free hand had whipped behind her back and returned with a dagger, which she pressed directly below his sternum.

Pitch eyed the blade as well as he could with her fingers crushing his windpipe like a set of talons. The knife didn’t surprise him. He was more surprised by the fact that he’d missed it. That served him right for thinking she was unarmed.

“I hope you aren’t meaning to imply anything diminutive.” Toothiana said smoothly, the smile on her lips stopping before it reached her eyes. Pitch bared his teeth, choking when her grip suddenly tightened unpleasantly, cutting off the growl that had risen from him. “Because I don’t take kindly to being made light of.” She continued darkly. A painful lump formed in his throat at the pressure, tears starting to gather in his eyes with each failed attempt to swallow. He’d forgotten how strong she was.

“Now, what was that you were saying about eggs?” She demanded, digging the tip of her knife into his skin as his knees grew weak. He could already picture the path it would make down his stomach to split him open like an overripe fruit. His hands were at her arm, and he briefly considered breaking it. It would have been so easy--she was so slender—but he hesitated, his vision blurring more with each second he was deprived of oxygen. When his legs threatened to give out and dark was swimming in the corners of his eyes, she relaxed her grip just enough for him to suck up a quick gulp of air. It was like breathing through a straw, but it was better than the embarrassing alternative.

“N-nothing!” Pitch croaked, patting her arm frantically for her to loosen her grip when he ran out of breath. She dug her nails into his skin, the false smile falling from her face, and there was an ugly moment when he almost thought she was going to start choking him again when her fingers tensed dangerously.

“That’s what I thought.”

Pitch gasped in relief when she let go, coughing and staggering when he inhaled too sharply, blood and oxygen rushing through his body. He looked up from rubbing his burning throat in time to see Toothiana slipping the dagger into a gold sheath attached to her belt resting over her tail feathers. She had a frustratingly smug smirk on her face that he should have wanted to claw off, but the rest of his body hadn’t gotten the memo, and to his alarm seemed intent on giving her a different kind of rise.

“My mistake. Eggs are Bunnymund’s brood.” Pitch said breathlessly, his voice hoarse as he stepped back into the shadows feeling disheveled and subdued.

“Don’t make the same mistake twice.” She warned, looking down at him with a gorgeous sheen of silver moonlight washing over her plumage like armor. She was every bit the warrior queen of Punjam Hy Loo he recognized her as, and nothing like the bubbly pixie persona she seemed to have adopted over the centuries. It did not improve his body’s condition in the slightest, to his confusion.

“Baby Tooth, I think it’s time you got back to work. There’s a lateral incisor five blocks from here.” She told her mini fairy suddenly. Baby Tooth saluted and, after casting a fierce glare into the shadows, took off in search of the aforementioned tooth. Pitch stiffened when her gaze snapped back to him contemptuously.

“And, if you must know, I’ve been making an effort to go out and collect teeth personally more often. Jack’s idea.” Toothiana added curtly, tapping her pristine nails against one of the cylindrical cases hanging from her belt. A tooth box? Pitch nodded quickly in understanding when she continued to stare. Of course it was Jack’s idea. The boy put so much time trying to persuade Pitch to join him in his childish antics, it hardly surprised him that the sprite’s influence spread to the other Guardians as well. The little brat was infectious. 

“If anything, I should be asking you why you’re out and about. Isn’t Sandy supposed to be watching you?” Toothiana frowned, inspecting him with more suspicion than he was comfortable with.

“He is not my babysitter.” He snapped defensively, “And, contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend all of my time making the world a terrible place.” He added stiffly, prowling just out of the moon’s reach.

“Hmph. Could have fooled me.” Toothiana shot back, sitting down near the edge of the shadows with a huff.

“What are you doing?” Pitch demanded, glaring at her as she made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged on the lawn.

“I’m taking a break. I’ve been flying all night.” She said sharply, unfastening one of the gold cases from her belt with a click. The glare she sent his way dared him to argue. Pitch couldn’t help but lean forward to watch her open the box, blinking at the complicated whirl of diamond shaped panels folding away from the surface in a needlessly intricate lid. Inside, four long rows of pits were studded into a soft red velvet interior, like the inside of a jewelry box. Three fourths of the pits were occupied by little white baby teeth, and as he watched Toothiana began arranging them one at a time. Molars were grouped in one area, canines in another, and then incisors and so on.

A few of the teeth still had traces of blood on them, and not all of them were the cleanest, but she didn’t seem to mind touching them as she lifted each tooth up to her face for inspection. He saw her frown at a few of the worst offenders, but she lowered each one into place with a kind of tenderness that he had never seen from her before. At least, not from this close. When she was done, she leaned back and sighed happily, setting the case on the ground in front of her with a pleased smile.

“Resting out in the open isn’t the wisest of choices you know.” Pitch pointed out at last, allowing himself to lean out a bit further, insulted by her blatant disregard for the threat he should have posed.

“I’m in full view of the moon, and I nearly gutted you a few minutes ago. I think I’m fine.” She replied derisively, but the tooth sorting had softened the edge in her voice considerably. Pitch scowled.

“You’re also three feet away from the Bogeyman. Better not doze off.” He said menacingly, looming until his shadow fell over her. To his annoyance she only glared up at him.

“Give the fear mongering a rest for once.” She retorted, looking back down at the teeth. He hesitated briefly, narrowing his eyes.

“Pardon?”

“I’m not a little girl, Pitch. You’re not going to get any fear out of me, not tonight.” She said bluntly. She looked like she meant it too.

“I’d beg to differ, but I’m not about to break the truce in order to prove a point… yet…” He grumbled, leaning back into the dark, feeling a bit put out.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” She complained, squinting up at him. She waved her hand vaguely in his direction, “All of that. Stop. You don’t have to be scary all the time. Just be corporeal for once and relax. Don’t you ever take a break?” She said irritably.

Pitch frowned, “No.” He wouldn’t be caught dead lazing about in the open like some… _Guardian_. He had an image to maintain, people to hide from. It required constant vigilance.

“I seriously hope you don’t spend all of your free time _brooding_.” She gave him a stern look, apparently still peeved by his egg-laying comment.

“I _don’t_ brood.” He hissed, “Besides, doesn’t sorting teeth count as part of the job? Hardly a break, if you ask me.”

“I enjoy sorting them. What do you do for fun?” She asked challengingly. Pitch paused.

What did he do for fun? Was she asking what he thought was fun, or what everyone else thought was fun? There were often times a large distinction between the two. He didn’t instigate fights by throwing ice down people’s shirts. Or sort bits of teeth by order of their location in the mouth. Or paint eggs and study flora. Or build toys. Or nap.

“Nothing that I’d care to tell you about.” He said at last, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

“Jack’s right, you need to get out more.” She observed. Pitch growled lowly, glaring hard and fighting the urge to snap something profane back at her.

“I see no reason why I should.” He said stubbornly, walking along the edge of the house’s shadow.

“It’s not good to stay cooped up all the time. That’s why I’ve started collecting teeth myself again.” Toothiana picked up the tooth case, and Pitch could see the way her spirits lifted at the sight of it.

“I get out plenty, Jack drags me along to your little parties doesn’t he?” He hissed. “Despite the fact that not I, nor anyone else involved, particularly enjoys it.” He added bitterly.

“Maybe if you stopped being an ass, one of us would actually like being around you.” She said back.

“I highly doubt that. Is it really so shocking that I’d detest being dragged into a room with the five people I hate most? I don’t _want_ you to like me either. That’s Frost’s disillusioned fantasy.” He glowered down at her angrily. Something about the light almost made him think that her expression had softened.

“If you hate the parties, why don’t you try something else then? You could visit one of us for tea.” She suggested slowly, surprising Pitch.

“I visit Sanderson.” He snipped flippantly.

“Well you can’t visit him all the time. Visit someone else for a change. Jack doesn't count.”

“It hardly seems fair that I’m the only one being forced to leave my home for these things.” He groused under his breath, folding his arms. He hadn’t meant to be heard, but it happened nonetheless.

“Fine then. What if one of us came to you?” Toothiana offered. Pitch jumped a little, feeling that he’d missed something very important in the conversation.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll come to your lair in one week, at six o’clock. We can have a civil discussion over tea, one spirit to another, and if visiting your former enemies is so awful I'll see what all the fuss is about. Sound good?” She closed the tooth box and stood, ready to fly. Pitch gaped at her, trying to keep up.

“But-“

“I don’t get breaks very often, Pitch.” She reminded him, taking flight. “We’re not enemies anymore, and it’s about time we started acting like it. This is bound to happen eventually, the sooner we get it over with the better.” Pitch stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to find a hole in her logic. To his despair, it made sense. _Get it done quick, like a Band-Aid._

“Well? Is it a yes or a no? I’ve got to get back to work so you better make up your mind quickly.” Toothiana warned impatiently, looking ready to dart off. Pitch jumped slightly.

“A-alright…?” He stammered past the lump of anxiety that formed in his chest. He’d need to find more furniture. And clear a spot in his lair. Maybe clean up a little… Stars, what kind of tea did she like?

She didn’t even allow him a chance to change his mind, zipping away before he could get a single word out. Pitch sat down dizzily as soon as she was out of sight, panic rising in his chest.

One week. Six o’clock.

He didn’t have to do anything. He could always go and tell her he’d changed his mind.

But she was always so busy.

And he had no desire to see the Tooth Palace again.

The mental picture of her sitting alone, wasting one of her precious breaks waiting for him to show up, came unbidden to his mind and left a bitter taste in his mouth. She’d waste break just to visit him. She’d fly to the other side of the globe in order to reach the entrance of his lair in Burgess, only to fly all the way back. Pitch grabbed his hair in frustration. It wasn’t fair.

As he stood to leave, a flash of color caught his eye.

Toothiana had left behind a feather. Pitch picked it up carefully, holding it up to the light.

It was a tail feather, one of the shorter ones that grew near the base where her tail met her hips. It was a rich, deep, iridescent blue, stiff and smooth and soft to the touch. It must have fallen out naturally, he figured. Did Toothiana molt? He wanted to ask her, but based on how she had reacted to being called a brood hen, he decided against it. Even if the rest of him disagreed.

He touched his neck, wondering if he’d have more bruises to hide after his next encounter. She always ended up attacking him, one way or another. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received a lot of amazing reviews for the last chapter so thank you everyone! I was going to post this chapter tomorrow, but I changed my mind because it's Valentine's Day so why not give you guys something nice? This was my favorite chapter to write so far, not to mention the longest, and it got out of hand very quickly. I've wanted a situation like this between these two for a long time- you'll see what I mean. I hope you enjoy!

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this.” Toothiana whispered to Baby Tooth. She looked back down at the tunnel below her and a shudder ran up her spine as her hands started trembling. It was too narrow. She would never be able to spread her wings enough to control the fall, and the smooth walls would be useless for her to grab onto so climbing was just as unlikely. She liked Bunny’s tunnels more, which wasn’t by much, but they were nicer than a straight drop into hell.

 _“I don’t see why you suggested this in the first place.”_ Baby Tooth replied unsympathetically.

“It’s about time I started being more proactive about the truce like Jack and Sandy. Otherwise we’re not going to get anywhere.” Toothiana explained absently. _And maybe I felt bad for overreacting last week._ She added in her mind, still hesitating above the hole.

 _“That doesn’t mean Pitch is going to do the same.”_ Baby Tooth reminded her.

Toothiana sighed wearily. “I’m not stooping to his level. One of us needs to take the high road and I doubt it’ll be him.”

She _had_ been a bit aggressive when she saw Pitch last. She had no trouble admitting that. Her nerves just frayed faster whenever he was around. Sure, it had been a bit low of a comment, but had it really warranted pulling a knife on him? What did she expect from him? He was insufferable, mean, horrifying, seductive—no, _not_ seductive. She wasn’t sure where that had come from but it had no business being in her head.

“If something goes wrong, I’m counting on you to tell the others what happened. Alright?”

 _“Jack and I go down there all the time. Don’t let him sneak up on you and you’ll be fine.”_ Baby Tooth said, probably trying to be reassuring. _But how do I keep him from sneaking up on me exactly?_ Toothiana thought incredulously. Down that tunnel it was a whole new game. The moment she set foot in his lair she would be playing on Pitch’s terms, according to his rules. Jack might get a kick out of it, but she wasn’t so sure she would feel the same.

"Right." She gave herself a little shake, adjusted the dagger on her belt—no way was she doing this unarmed—and dropped into the tunnel.

It was completely dark, and she had no way of knowing how close she was to the walls as she fell. She could only tuck her arms and wings in and hope for the best. She had expected the drop to end abruptly, or for some rough painful tumble to slow her descent, so it came as a shock when the tunnel began to slope gradually, catching her out of free-fall. The stone was as smooth as glass, forming a natural slide that curved just sharply enough that when the ground leveled she still had enough momentum to flip-flop over suddenly rough stone, but not enough that the landing hurt badly. And she could see! Weak shafts of light invaded the lair from gaps in the faraway ceiling, strong enough to provide a halfway decent lighting. Not something she’d care to read by or anything, but it was more than she had expected.

Brushing off her legs and shaking out her tail, she took a few steps away from the tunnel, peering around hesitantly. She had never seen Pitch’s lair with her own eyes, and her impression of it had been based solely on what she had heard from Jack and her fairies. She had never been able to paint a clear picture of it from what she’d heard other than “dark” and “creepy’.

There were the cages they’d told her so much about, she noted with a shudder as she flew a little farther. There was the globe Jack had described, with its thousands of lights glowing from roughly forged metal. Lots of metalwork in general, she observed, circling the globe curiously. Pitch must have a lot of time on his hands. The architecture was interesting as well, if a bit unsettling. The hard edges and flat shapes cast crisp, disconcertingly deep shadows.

There were no signs of fearlings, but that didn’t exactly comfort her, and Pitch could have been anywhere. She had just started to consider the unpleasant possibility that he would just ignore her and never show himself when a soft snuffling sound made her freeze, a chill racing up her spine as she turned.

On the far side of the cavern a pair of gold eyes were watching her from the darkness. It was so predictably unnerving that she almost felt embarrassed for the half squeak she made when the equine shape of a nightmare clopped slowly into the light. She’d thought Sandy had destroyed them all, but the nightmare inching towards her with its ears drawn back and its head low was clearly made from corrupted dreamsand, and definitely real. Her hand wandered to her dagger wearily.

“Onyx, don’t harass our guest.”

Toothiana had drawn her dagger at the sound of his voice projecting unnaturally in the wide space and sounding as though he was directly behind her before she registered Pitch emerging from behind the nightmare. He was running his hand over the nightmare’s neck, looking almost exactly like he had when he attacked her palace. The nightmare whickered aggressively at her from under the hand Pitch laid over its snout. She sheathed her knife quietly, easing her hand from the hilt.

“Apologies, Onyx is not good with guests. You have no idea how difficult it was to train her to stop chasing your fairies.” Pitch drawled, shoving Onyx’s head to break the nightmare’s stare. Toothiana shook herself back into attentiveness.

“Does Sandy know that you kept a nightmare?” She asked hesitantly, frowning. Pitch rolled his eyes.

“Oh he knows. Don’t ask me why he let me keep her. I haven’t the foggiest idea.” He assured her dismissively, flicking something unseen off the bridge of Onyx’s nose. He turned to stride along the stone path, hands behind his back, and the nightmare followed.

“This way.” He called over his shoulder. Toothiana trailed well out of kicking distance behind the nightmare, eyeing its haunches whenever she took her eyes from Pitch’s back. Why on earth did he have so many cages? Surely he hadn’t needed this many for all of her fairies. She swallowed thickly, mentally mapping their path and hoping Pitch played fair and left the exit in the same place.

“I wasn’t sure what your preferences are, but I have black, oolong, and green tea.” Pitch explained as he walked. Toothiana looked up in surprise.

A small table set with two chairs sat in the middle of a wide stone bridge in front of them. The table was very precisely set right down to the millimeter, and on one side of the chair furthest from her there was a smaller table with what looked like a portable stove, already lit with a pot over it. Pitch pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit. She almost wanted to smile at the gentlemanly behavior if her stomach wasn’t churning at the thought of turning her back on him. He was patient, however, waiting for her to make a decision.

Plucking up an extra dose of courage, Toothiana flittered over the seat, flinching as it was pushed in under her.

“Which tea would you prefer?” Pitch asked indifferently as he ghosted around the table.

“Green, please.”

He nodded, going about preparing the tea leaves as Onyx stalked around the side of the table. He batted her away without so much as a glance whenever she tried to stealthily stick her snout into the cups or lip at the tray of food. Toothiana wasn’t sure how she would respond if the nightmare started snuffling at her side of the table.

“You’re awfully quiet. Beginning to regret your decision?” Pitch commented at last, looking up from the pot. Toothiana stiffened, feeling her face heat up as she considered lying. He would probably see through it in an instant.

“Yes.”

“You can leave if you want to. I’m not going to stop you, although Onyx might chase you out.” He said, his face impassive as he looked back at what he was doing. She wasn’t even sure she would find the exit if she tried to esca-leave, not escape. She wasn’t a prisoner. She was a guest. Toothiana clenched her fists and dodged a sweep of the nightmare’s tail.

“No, I’ll stay.”

“This isn’t going to be much of a break if you’re spending it so tense.” Pitch’s eyes were sweeping over her analytically, his attention far from helpful. He seemed amused, if anything.

“I’ll be fine.” She insisted primly, a bit sharper than she had intended as she rolled her shoulders and shifted self-consciously. She hadn’t sat down comfortably, but she was too anxious to adjust her legs and tail. Pitch nodded again, but there was a mocking glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Well, don’t blame me if you snap a tendon.” He replied as he alternated between filling her cup and his own. Her wings twitched nervously when he reached over to set her cup down in front of her. MiM, he was tall. It wasn’t often that she sat down, but when she did it was usually with her fellow Guardians. Even Jack was taller than she was. But Pitch… he didn’t dwarf her like North, but he certainly came close.

“You aren’t exactly making it easy to relax.” She managed stiffly, glancing up at the ceiling as he sat down, wondering if there would be a crack wide enough for her to slip through.

His smirk seemed to have widened. This wasn’t a battle, but she couldn’t tell if Pitch was able to make the distinction. Pitch was far more in his element than she had ever seen him before, calm and confident in the safety of his home. Rather than feeling like an intruder, she felt like a plaything.

“It can’t be helped.” He said with a shrug, scowling at Onyx when she tried to stick her tongue into his cup. He swatted the nightmare and the dejected mare slunk away from the table.

“You know, I kind of doubt that.” Toothiana huffed, eyeing her drink for a moment before glancing back up at him.

“I could always make it worse.” Pitch lifted his gaze to the cages meaningfully, just slowly enough for her to notice as he picked up his cup, the tea cool enough for him to drink apparently. She wasn’t sure she would have enjoyed scalding tea, and she was certain he would have been able to see her hands shaking if she tried to pick up her cup.

“Pitch, I will stuff my dagger down your throat if you so much as think about it.” She told him as calmly as she could manage, at odds with the involuntary spike of alarm that seized her limbs. She felt hot and cold at the same time, burning adrenaline clashing wildly with the ice he was putting in her veins. Pitch was positively beaming, sharp teeth on full display.

“From you, I’d expect nothing less. That’s a very interesting phobia you have, by the way.” He snickered, taking a sip of tea as her breath caught in her throat.

“What do you mean? I don’t have-“

“Cleithrophobia, the fear of being trapped. One of my favorite phobias, to be sure. Your fairies handle it better than you do. Tell me, was it a trauma that triggered such a delectable fear, or was it something else?” He interrupted lightly. His voice was conversational, but his eyes were gleaming with something she almost identified as excitement.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, half rising out of her seat. Was he provoking her on purpose? There was no way he didn’t know what he was doing. Every word, every sound, and every miniscule movement was calculated down to the letter. Her threat was beginning to feel less substantial by the second.

“I like to think it was a trauma. It’s not the worst thing to be afraid of, you know. And I’m hesitant to call it an actual phobia, considering how well you seem to manage. Of course, you probably don’t spend much time around cages, do you?” Pitch went on, setting down his cup as he leaned forward slightly. Toothiana felt like jumping out of her seat by that point and gripped the arms of the chair in an attempt to restrain herself.

“Stop it, Pitch.”

“Have you ever tried exposure therapy? I hear it works _wonders_ -“ All it took was the softest rattle of a chain somewhere above them for her to snap, launching herself from the chair like a missile, straight for Pitch with a wall of adrenaline crashing down over her brain. He’d been ready for her, the dark reaching out to him as he slipped away as smoothly as though he’d simply been rising from his seat.

“Eager to try it, are we?” his voice tapered into soft laughter, echoing sinisterly around her.

Toothiana spun on the spot, dagger in hand, scanning the area for Pitch’s tall silhouette. He was projecting his voice again, throwing it across the room to confuse her. She tightened her grip on the dagger in panic, trying to keep one eye on the shadows, and another eye on the cages above her head that she was sure Pitch had plans for.

_There!_

She lunged forward, slashing her wings through a shadow that had been darker than the rest. Pitch dodged again, spinning out of her path and forcing her to turn to avoid leaving her back exposed.

“Too slow.”

“You missed.”

“Missed me again.”

“Really, dear, are you even trying to—ACK!”

Toothiana’s hand caught the hem of his robe as he leapt from one shadow to the next, and she tackled him right out of the patch of darkness she had chased him to, over the ledge of stone, and directly into one of the lowest hanging cages. They landed in the cage with a fearsome rattle and the door swung shut with a slam.

“… In regards to your question last week: ‘What do I do for fun?’ I believe you have your answer.” Pitch drawled when he got his wind back, sounding out of breath and very, very close.

Toothiana bolted upright with a squeak and felt her head hit his legs.

She spread her wings.

Wall.

She spread her arms.

Wall.

“… Pitch…” She said slowly, no longer bothering to hide the tremor in her voice. She was in a cage with Pitch, sitting on his stomach, less worse for wear, but significantly more bothered by the situation than he seemed to be.

“Hm?” He was lying with his head and shoulders wedged against the crisscrossing wire bars, twisted awkwardly from the way he’d landed, the rest of him unceremoniously folded at the opposite end of the cage, legs bent so that when she tried to sit up her back hit his knees.

“If you don’t open this cage in _five seconds_ , I’m going to kill you.” Toothiana threatened, trying to breathe evenly. The tiny space was much darker than it should have been, she could barely see by the light that passed through the wire. Pitch was just a large, shapeless black mass.

“Mmm… Can’t.” His hum was a contemplative rumble that reverberated in her very bones as she saw his eyes flick open, gleaming with more light than they should have been able to reflect in the small space, scarcely inches from her nose.

“Can’t, or won’t?” She grabbed him by what she assumed was the collar of his robe and considered shaking him. It took all of her willpower to keep from doing so. 

“I don’t have the key. Not with me, at any rate. You’re welcome to search me if you don’t believe me.” He told her earnestly.

“Then use. Your. Shadows.” She hissed.

“Can’t do that either.” Toothiana bit back a squeal when she felt him wiggle his arm out from under her thigh. He flicked the wire beside his head. “Lead.”

She gaped at him.

“Why the hell are your cages made of lead?!” she shouted, shaking him by the front of his robe. He held his hands up helplessly in surrender but she could see mirth in his eyes as he fought back a grin.

“Where else would I keep the fearlings?” He asked as though the answer should have been perfectly obvious. She stiffened.

“Calm down, calm down. They’re not in _these_ cages, obviously. These are just the extras. The fearlings are farther down.” Pitch clarified upon seeing the look on Toothiana’s face. 

“I really am going to kill you.” She decided flatly, looking around for her dagger as her eyes adjusted. To her despair, she couldn’t find it.

“Well, you certainly can try. But then you’d be trapped in a cage with a corpse, and where’s the fun in that?” Pitch drawled.

“Where is my dagger?” She demanded, ignoring his chatter. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously as he blinked up at her with entirely too much innocence.

“What dagger?” He asked as innocuously as a child.

“My dagger, Pitch. Hand it over, and I might leave your corpse in one piece.” She growled, holding her hand out expectantly.

“What you do with my body after I’m dead is entirely your own business.” He replied primly, making no move to reveal the dagger she knew he had stolen.

“I’m serious, give it back.” She said firmly, hoping he couldn’t see the way her hands quivered when she released the front of his robes.

“I swear I don’t have it, cross my heart.” He raised one hand as though he were taking an oath while he scored an “X” across his chest dramatically with the other. Toothiana rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to scoff.

“If you had a heart, I might have believed you.”

“Oh, ouch. And I thought Jack was the cold one.” Pitch pretended to look wounded. She had to give him some credit though; he made it look very sincere. “Fine then. Care to look for yourself?” He offered, the hurt expression falling away to be replaced by a smirk as he tugged his robe open challengingly. She glimpsed bare skin before shadows overtook it and felt her heart pound at the memory of the last time she’d seen that chest under her. She was certain he would be able to hear it.

“Absolutely not!” Her voice was almost a squeak, and she felt entirely too warm in the small space. She hadn’t expected him to feel warm either, and their combined body heat was making the cage a bit stifling. Deep breaths, she reminded herself frantically, trying not to picture what might happen if she fainted then as she could feel herself hyperventilating.

Pitch shrugged indifferently, pulling his robe shut and she felt a wave of disappointment wash over her in spite of herself.

“Your choice. You’re not getting your dagger back though.” He told her bluntly, shifting under her again. She _knew_ he had her dagger. Wonderful. Toothiana yelped as he shoved her off of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” She exclaimed, ducking under his leg as he resituated himself.

“Getting comfortable. Now scoot.” He demanded, nudging her against the opposite side of the cage with his foot as he tried to sit up. 

“Don’t kick me!” she shouted, pushing his leg away. Pitch lost his balance and slipped, nearly crushing her in the process.

“I’m not trying to!” He protested, holding himself over her. Her tail caught on something when she tried to slip free.

“You’re sitting on my tail!” She snarled, cringing at how close he was, despite her efforts to avoid him, and his complete lack of effort to do the same.

“Well then _move your tail_!” He barked back, shifting his weight and making the entire cage tilt. He slipped on her feathers and fell squarely on top of her. It didn’t feel like he’d tried very hard to catch himself at all, in her opinion.

“That had better be my dagger in your pocket, Pitch.” She wheezed, his shoulder digging into her neck as all the breath was crushed out of her. For a shadow, he was awfully heavy.

“… It is.”

Toothiana pushed herself up, despite the dead weight on her back and kicked Pitch hard, shoving him off of herself with both legs and scowling when it failed to grant her any space.

“Watch where you’re kicking!” He yelped, trying to avoid her flailing legs and only succeeding in making the cage swing again.

“Stop it! Just stop moving!” She ordered frantically as they both nearly collapsed again, hooking her fingers into the wire to keep herself from falling as the cage continued to sway from their movements. Pitch, in the meantime, was folding himself like paper in an attempt to find a better position than the one he was currently in, which was twisted like an acrobatic pretzel to avoid damaging her wings.

“Not until I’ve corrected what you’ve done to my spine.” He replied, his voice strained as he righted himself. After a few moments of awkward shuffling and hesitant clambering over each other’s limbs, they finally found reasonably bearable positions. She settled gingerly in the space between his legs, which he spread for her accommodatingly, and they both sat with their backs against the bars, looking at one another.

A tentative recollection of the New Year’s party gave her a hearty blush that she sincerely hoped he couldn’t see as she tried to dismiss how much more appealing he looked with his legs spread for her. She could barely make out his face less than a foot from her own grinning at her toothily. He was just a set of predatory eyes floating over a Cheshire grin of jagged teeth that made her heart wince. She looked away quickly.

They lapsed into an obstinate silence. Toothiana pointedly refused to look at him, glaring off to the side with her fingers curled into tight fists to keep from trembling, and silently wondering why she’d ever bothered trying to make nice with Pitch. New Year’s had been bad enough, but this was somehow worse. This had been a horrible idea. She never should have come. She should have stayed at home and managed the mini fairies like she was supposed to and skipped her break entirely. She would have been home and safe, rather than trapped in a cage with arguably the worst thing to be trapped with. She would have rather been stuck with a tiger than Pitch.

Pitch hadn’t made a single sound, but she could feel his eyes on her the entire time. His attention was thick and heavy, and her mind was screaming for her to check on him, to not turn her back because any second now he was going to do something _awful_ and she felt a flicker of fear at the possibilities. It was terribly difficult to breathe silently when Pitch didn't seem to be breathing at all himself. He could probably see her shaking as she tried to control her breathing. How good was his eyesight? She wasn’t sure she could rely on the dark to conceal her shivering at all, considering he was practically a shadow himself, and—oh dear sweet MiM she was feeling dizzy. Pitch huffed softly in a silent laugh and her rage came bubbling back to the surface where it belonged.

“You’re insane!” She screeched suddenly, clenching her fists and fighting the urge to beat him to a bloody pulp as she finally looked back at him. _How dare he enjoy this!_ She thought furiously. She needed to get out.

“You’re the one who made the decision to visit in the first place.” He pointed out with an enraging air of smugness, not missing a beat.

“A decision I regretted the moment I made it!” she fired back scathingly.

“Ready to admit that visiting your enemy isn’t as delightful as you thought? Not so comfortable, is it?” Pitch asked slyly, looking pleased with himself.

“Pitch… You threatened to put me in a _cage_.” She deadpanned, her hands flexing around an invisible throat. She was almost shaking with rage.

“Implied, dear.” He corrected, as though the distinction still mattered, and then cackled unexpectedly. “And you were the one that chased me in here.” He added, giving a flamboyant gesture to the cage around them that really had no business being used in such a confined space.

“You provoked me! On purpose!” She snapped.

“Come now, did you honestly expect anything else from this visit?” He sneered back.

“A _civil_ conversation would have been nice! Not an unconventional therapy session involving the deep seated traumas of my childhood!” She exclaimed. Pitch seemed to perk up, to her displeasure.

“Oh? So it was a trauma then.”

Toothiana growled in frustration, too aggravated to form words. “Leave it alone.” She bit out between clenched teeth, willing herself to appear more threatening, despite being half his size.

“Now, now, I’m just making conversation, there’s no need to fluff up your feathers-“

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“It’s a simple observation! Your feathers... They’re fluffing.” He pointed at her chest and when she looked down she saw, to her horror, that he was right. Of course, she’d always been able to raise her feathers. No one had ever had the audacity to point it out right to her face though. She slapped his hand away with a snarl.

“Don’t patronize me, you ass!” She spat, her feathers rising further at the throaty chuckle that rose from his throat.

“So defensive. Am I hitting a nerve?” He probed insensitively.

“It’s a perfectly normal bodily function that you have no right to point out!” She hissed, smoothing her hands over her stomach self-consciously. She had half a mind to claw his eyes when she noticed him watching the movement.

“You seem a little tense, Toothiana. Would you like me to give you a massage to help you relax?”

It was probably for the better that whatever response she had been about to give was interrupted by an uncomfortable sounding, but fully welcomed voice.

“I know I shouldn’t ask… And, honestly, I’m kind of scared to know the answer, but uh… What are you guys doing?” A strong gust of frigid wind whistled through the cage, which swung violently when something landed on the outside of the bars and peered inside.  _Oh thank MiM._

“Jack?” Toothiana exclaimed, feeling some of the tension melt at the sight of white hair glowing in the weak light of the lair. The chance of rescue was the only thing that spared Pitch’s life, and she hoped he knew it too. She could see the pale tips of Jack’s fingers hooking into the wire as he squinted into the cage at them.

“Hi, Tooth. Baby Tooth said something was up with you and Pitch but she couldn’t say what. Could you explain what I’m looking at?” Jack asked, a worried edge to his voice. There was a peep over his shoulder and Baby Tooth flew into view, squeaking frantically at them between the bars. The mini fairy had gone for help when Toothiana hadn’t come back on time.

“It’s a long story, but we’re stuck. Could you give us a hand?” She asked miserably, too defeated to bother explaining the full extent of her situation. Jack frowned at them through the bars.

“Sure thing, but uh… Pitch? You know you can just turn into a shadow and leave, right?” Jack said lamely, climbing around the cage to find the door. Toothiana suppressed a sigh.

“He can’t. The cage is made out of lead.”

“No, I’m pretty sure this is iron.” Jack told her skeptically, squinting at the frost he had spread over the lock.

“What? But, Pitch, I thought you said?… Oh my god, you _jerk!_ ” Toothiana shrieked, lunging at Pitch. He cackled maniacally as he faded into the darkness and slipped from the cage before she could touch him, escaping as easily as if he were made of smoke. “I can’t believe you lied to me! You could have gotten out at any time?!”

“Why are you so surprised, Toothiana? Of course I lied. It’s what I do.” Pitch chuckled, appearing on a higher ledge so he could see inside the cage. Toothiana grabbed the cage door and shook it on its hinges violently.

“Jack! Get me out of here so I can kill him!” She roared, not caring how vicious she sounded. Jack laughed nervously and fiddled with the lock a bit more before grabbing the door and pulling hard. The cold metal broke with a loud snap and Toothiana shot from the cage straight for Pitch, only to find he had disappeared once again, leaving her spinning on the spot trying to make sense of the laughter bouncing all around her. “Come out and face me you spineless coward!”

“I’d love to, really, but it seems our time here is up. Don’t let the nightmare nip at you on your way out.” Pitch’s voice echoed ominously from all directions. Toothiana bit back a curse and turned sharply to Jack and Baby Tooth.

“Thank you for getting help, Baby Tooth. Let’s get home. Jack, could you show us the exit please?” She asked tersely, trying to ignore the way her neck crawled at the unseen gaze that was boring into her. Jack smirked and the two took flight through the caverns.

Astonishingly, the exit was still in the same place it had been when she entered. It was a bit of an awkward climb at the last few feet where the tunnel narrowed drastically. Jack went through first and helpfully lowered his staff to fish her out. She was almost certain that she heard snatches of hysterical laughter behind them as she left. They were halfway to the next town when Jack finally spoke again.

“Sooo… I’m assuming he did all of that on purpose?” he mused, glancing at Toothiana apprehensively. She faltered mid-flight, scowling at how easily she had been tricked.

“Yes, he did, and the next time I see his face I’m going to break it.” She huffed, straightening her flight path. “He locked me in a cage and nearly crushed me.” She added in a less harsh tone. Jack’s smile was sympathetic.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” She gave him a questioning look and he continued. “First few times I visited, he locked me in a cage at least three times, and tried to drown me. It’s standard procedure, I guess. If I’d known you were going to visit him I would have warned you.” He said, laughing as he flipped over to recline on the breeze as he flew.

“ _Standard procedure?_ He tried to kill you!” She spluttered. Jack laughed and shrugged off her concern.

“Nah, I would have been fine anyway. He was just doing it to scare me. You’re not too mad, are you?” Jack asked, looking weary. She made a mental note to address Jack’s lack of concern for his own wellbeing later.

“Oh I’m definitely mad. I’m going to make him pay for thinking he could just stick me in a cage like some pet! And he stole my dagger!” she grumbled seriously, her hand drifting to the empty sheath on her belt dismally. Jack smirked.

“Well, if you ever want to get even, I may have a few suggestions…”


	10. Chapter 10

It hadn’t even been a week before Pitch started to regret teasing the Tooth Fairy by putting her in a cage. In retrospect, he probably should have seen it coming when she decided to get back at him…

Yes, he definitely should have seen it coming.

What he hadn’t expected was the amount of time and thought that had been put into what he would internally refer to as “Toothiana’s Revenge”.

Pitch opened the closet door as quietly as he could, save for the barest of squeaks, leaving just an inch or so of space to peer into the room.

Siblings, he noted, eyeing the pair of beds before moving towards the closer of the two by sliding across the wall as a shadow.

He had been so invested in the prospect of the fear from two children instead of one that he had completely overlooked the scrap of feathers that snuck through the window. In fact, he hadn’t even known she was there until a flash of light assaulted his eyes like a knife through his skull.

With a yelp that woke both children, Pitch clamped both hands over his eyes and dived back into the darkness, only to have his back hit solid wall. He whirled in panic, and each shadow he made to shelter in was thoroughly lit by the beam of light.

“You little pests!” He snarled, trying to open his eyes enough to find a decent shadow, only to be met with even more light. The fairy had brought reinforcements. They lit up the closet, the corners, even under the beds. Pitch leapt for the closest exit he could see and escaped from the window and out onto the snow covered street.

Jack Frost must have passed through not long ago, he noted as he sped past the undecorated snowmen and too-good-to-be-true sledding slopes that the sprite had set up for the children.

Pitch was torn between feeling grateful that the boy wasn’t there to watch him get dogged by fairies, and regretful that he had to fend the flying beasts off on his own. Not that he could have done much to them anyway. Toothiana would have been terribly upset if a flock of her fairies were to be inexplicably _eaten_.

Weaving from shadow to shadow, Pitch glimpsed a blur of color before a bright flash had him veering to the side to avoid being blinded again. The fairies were fast, he’d give them that much, but honestly, he should have been faster. How in the world did they keep managing to outpace him?

“What the hell do you little pom-poms want from me?!” He screeched as his attempt to slip away under the shadow of a parked car was thwarted. He was met by a bright light shining in his face and a chorus of chitters followed him as he ran for the nearby trees in the hope that he could loose them in the shadows there.

The fairies’ insistent pursuit had been too methodical, too organized, and Pitch realized this just as what felt like a padded battering ram collided with his back and sent him sprawling. He hadn’t even begun to recover his breath when he was pinned to the ground with his face pressed into a fresh layer of powdery snow, feeling much like a rat being caught by a hawk.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow_!” He howled, craning his face above the snow for air and struggling as his arm was twisted behind his back by a pair of small but alarmingly strong hands. He had just managed to open his eyes when a light was placed on the ground near his head, pointing directly at his face. He hissed and spat, squeezing his eyes shut, but unable to escape the light as a hand grabbed the back of his head and held it in place when he tried to turn away. It was out of the reach, so he could do little more than flail and claw at the ground with his free hand.

“Excellent job girls! You are dismissed.” Toothiana commended breezily to the swarm of mini fairies he could hear buzzing over them. They whistled and chirped with pride and Pitch severely regretted not eating them while he had the chance. It would have served the meddling buzzard right to set her little copies on him during one of the few nights a week that the Sandman allowed him free reign.

“Get _off_!” Pitch snarled, bucking ineffectively. She simply widened her stance and twisted his arm harder, forcing a breathless gasp out of his lungs that he tried to conceal with a louder snarl as he renewed his efforts to dislodge the fairy. He kicked and thrashed wildly, straining until he couldn’t fight any longer. He was still weak compared to the Guardians, even after the truce. He went limp, chest heaving, heart racing, and eyes watering.

“Are you done?” He heard Toothiana ask casually over the sound of blood pounding in his ears.

He gave her the most threatening growl he could muster in reply.

“Who would have thought that all it takes to catch the Bogeyman is a few tooth fairies and a handful flashlights?” She said smoothly over his wordless rumbles. He squirmed defiantly as his head was pushed deeper into the snow.

“What do you want?” he ground out between clenched teeth, his voice muffled.

“I’d like my dagger back, for starters. And a formal apology for your behavior during my visit to your lair wouldn’t hurt either.” She told him brightly. Her mood had certainly brightened since he’d seen her last.

“Oh, is that all?” He drawled, trying to lift his head away from the flashlight.

“No. I also want payback for when you put me in that cage.” She added nonchalantly as she forced his head back down with one hand.

“Oh, you’re not upset about _that_ are you? I was in the cage too, you know.” He reminded her. He could already feel the inevitable pain the encounter would bring him.

“And you enjoyed every minute of it, you creep.” She reproached, digging her nails into his arm. He forced himself not to grin.

“Why I would _never_ take pleasure in- ah!” His words died in his throat as her hand seized a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back. He swallowed thickly and winced at the strain as he squinted up at the blurred shape leaning over him from behind.

“Don’t lie.” She ordered, her bubbly attitude vanishing in an instant as Pitch swallowed a groan.

There was that fiery warrior queen again, peeking through the ironically sugar coated sweet tooth she had become over the years. He dug the fingers of his free hand into the snow and squirmed in agitation, prompting her to tighten her grip.

“I’m not lying.” He rasped, baring his teeth as she squeezed his arm decisively. He arched into the snow with a shudder that had nothing to do with the cold at the disapproving hum she made near his ear.

“Of course you aren’t.” She agreed mockingly as she let him drop back into the flashlight’s reach. He hissed and tried to turn away again, jolting in surprise when he felt her hand slip under his torso unexpectedly.

“W-what are you doing?!” He squawked, shrinking away from her investigative touch.

“Looking for my dagger.” She said callously as she patted his hips and smoothed her hands down his thighs in search of any pockets that might have contained her dagger, uncaring of how far she had to bend his spine in order to keep his arm twisted while she searched.

“I don’t have it!” He yelped, keeping his hips firmly pressed into the ground.

“Where is it then?” Toothiana demanded, her grip on his arm tightening threateningly. He exhaled a shaky sigh in relief as she withdrew her hand slowly from under his thigh.

“At my lair! Alright? Now let me go!” Pitch ordered hoarsely, dragging his nails through the frozen ground in frustration as he tried to summon enough shadows to escape into.

Toothiana hummed in consideration, and he had the distinct impression that she was mimicking him when she responded.

“No, I don’t think I will. You still haven’t told me you’re sorry for locking me in a cage.” She reminded him haughtily, to his dismay. He took a few breaths, laughing weakly.

“Darling, you flew into that cage all by yourself.” He had tried to sound patronizing, but the effect was ruined by the feeble whimper that escaped him when she released his hair and purposefully twisted his wrist until a scream worked its way up his throat.

“Apologize.”

“No!”

“Do it!”

“ _Never_!”

Pitch’s fingers curled around a fistful of snow and in one swift motion he flung the handful over his shoulder where he judged Toothiana’s head was. She yelped in surprise and he felt her grip loosen to the point where he could slip free. He pushed himself up with a laugh of triumph and crawled to his feet unsteadily, blinking spots from his eyes as she tumbled off his back.

“There was ice in that, you ass!” She shrieked, and there was a soft _thud_ as a lump of snow hit the back of his robe. Pitch grinned wickedly.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, your majesty. Allow me to try again.” He snickered as she took flight and ran into the shadow of a nearby tree, scooping up a generous handful of snow while Toothiana circled the area wearily.

“Don’t you dare!” She called warningly, stooping to reach for the flashlight. Pitch stepped from the shadows behind her and took aim.

“Nice try, Pitch!” She whirled as a loose clump of snow flew from her hand and scattered over the front of his robe.

“That’s very mature, Toothiana.” He remarked sarcastically, ducking as more snow was hurled at him.

“You started it.” She said bluntly, lowering the flashlight just enough for him to see the coy look on her face as she readied more snow to be thrown. Pitch sidestepped quickly out of the light and into the shadows again.

“Self-defense, my dear.” He drawled, tossing his snowball in one hand. He narrowed his eyes at her unsuspecting back with a mischievous grin and lobbed the snowball at her rear. It was a perfect hit.

“Pitch!” Toothiana shrieked, leaping higher in the air as she shook snow from her tail feathers. His laughter gave away his hiding spot in an instant.

He cackled playfully and she chased him down, following his movement with the beam of her flashlight surprisingly well. He stumbled as a blur sailed over his head, and laughed derisively when he realized what it had been. He’d known that she still had a snowball in her hand, but he hadn’t expected her to hurl it so far ahead of him.

“What on earth were you aiming a-“ he never finished his sentence as a pile of fresh powder fell from the branches above his head and hit him squarely in the face. Gasping in surprise, he skidded to a stop and felt Toothiana crash into him, sending him face first into the snow for the second time that evening.

“Revenge is best served cold.” Toothiana told him disdainfully before dumping an armful of snow on top of his head. Pitch was grateful that his face was buried.

“Excuse me.” he began slowly as he recovered his breath, shaking snow out of his hair and twisting around to see the fairy that had decided to perch so delicately on his back. “Do I look like a sofa to you?”

She didn’t respond. Instead there was a soft rattle as she pulled something from her bag and a metallic click as something heavy was locked into place around one of his wrists. His heartbeat quickened rapidly, and he didn’t resist as his other wrist was brought behind his back and secured with another quiet click.

“What are you-“

“I can’t have you running off. And since you put me in a cage, it’s only fair that I put you in something that you can’t get out of.” Toothiana explained simply, adjusting her bag.

“Lead?” He asked softly, testing the chain that connected his wrists.

“From North.” She supplied as she sat down on his back.

“Ah… That’s… nice.” He commented, feeling his cheeks flush as he ran his fingers over the shackles and wondered how exactly she had managed to ask North for such a specific item. She must have been bolder than he’d thought.

“Mmhm.” She hummed indifferently, appearing to make herself comfortable between his bound arms.

“May I ask how you persuaded the Cossack to make these?” He prompted.

“You may _not_.”

“Fair enough… How long are you planning on keeping me here exactly?” He asked after a pause.

“Until sunrise. Or until you apologize for putting me in a cage. Whichever comes first.”

“And you intend to sit on me the entire time? Don’t you have teeth to collect?” He pressed, wiggling uncomfortably as the shadows refused to respond to his silent plea for rescue.

“I’m freezing. Did you expect me to sit in the snow? It’s your fault I’m cold anyway. And I have Baby Tooth handling the tooth collecting.” She told him unconcernedly, propping her arms against his lower back as she rested her feet on his head. He could feel her tail trailing over his hands tantalizingly, and it took a surprising amount of willpower not to reach up and sink his fingers into the soft feathers.

“ _My_ fault? You _ambushed_ me with bloodthirsty hummingbirds and bum-rushed me into the snow!” He recalled dramatically, twisting to glare at her, grunting when she kicked the back of his head lightly with her heel.

“You taunted me with my own fear and relished it. I think I’m entitled to a little compensation.” Toothiana reminded him unnecessarily, flexing her toes against his skull. The touch made him shiver.

“You’re probably enjoying this too, aren’t you.” She said after a moment. It wasn’t a question, and while he couldn’t hear it in her voice he could picture an expression of disgust on her face as she spoke.

He tilted his head into the ball of her foot with a sigh and squirmed, sinking his hips into the snow with the hope that the chill would chase away some of his tension. “What makes you say that?” He asked breathlessly. She kicked him again, and he had no doubt that he enjoyed it more than she did.

“Don’t play dumb, Pitch.” She said brusquely. He stifled a laugh.

“I have the attention of a queen. Does it anger you that I enjoy it?” He crooned, curling his fingers into her tail feathers sneakily.

“You’re doing it on purpose to anger me.” She replied as he wove his fingers more deeply into her plumage, tugging at it lightly when she offered him no response.

“Is it working?” He asked slyly, following her feathers up her tail. Toothiana shifted her position abruptly, pinning his arms to his back by sitting on his wrists and straddling his torso. He felt a firm grip on his hair as her nails scrapped his scalp.

“Yes.” Her legs tensed as he struggled to move his arms, and she was so warm compared to his icy hands that the contrast almost burned as he dug through her plumage with his fingers again. She jolted in surprise when his hand touched skin unexpectedly, jerking his head back with a half muffled squeak and a shockingly colorful swear as her other hand found his throat. He couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly as her nails threatened to break his skin.

“A tad sensitive under all those feathers, aren’t you?” Pitch remarked with forced nonchalance as she pulled his head back a little further. It was fortunate she hadn’t brought a blade with her otherwise bruises would have been the least of his worries. _Although, she doesn’t need a blade to slit my neck_ , he thought distractedly as her nails dragged slowly across his throat. The touch felt like an electric charge that ignited a fire in his stomach.

“You did that on purpose! Your hands are freezing!” She hissed, and he laughed harshly past the hand at his throat.

“Am I not entitled to a little warmth?” He protested, stiffening as her nails nearly pierced his skin.

“Not from me. And especially not from there.” She spat heatedly without batting an eye. Pitch resisted the urge to flinch.

“Not even if I asked nicely?” He asked, finding it very easy to look hurt by her rejection.

“No, but a little groveling wouldn’t hurt.” She told him, and he bristled at the unexpected smirk in her voice.

“Kings don’t beg.” He drawled, lifting his chin as Toothiana’s fingers slid up his neck. She tapped her nails against his windpipe lightly and set Pitch’s skin ablaze with each miniscule touch.

“Not even to a queen?” She purred—actually purred—, and he flinched when he felt her breath on his skin as she bent closer.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Toothiana.” He chuckled anxiously. Did she honestly think to beat him at his own game?

“Duly noted.” She replied, and he recoiled violently at a light tingling sensation against the skin of his ear as something soft brushed against it.

Toothiana laughed and sat down on his back again. “Looks like someone’s ticklish. I wonder…” She crooned shrewdly, much to his horror.

“Don’t even think about it, Toothiana.” He growled.

“Oh I’m way past thinking about it. Consider this part two of my vengeance.”

Pitch stiffened, panic rising in his chest. “You wouldn’t dare!” She had to be bluffing. He would have expected that kind of behavior from Jack, or even Sandy, but never from Toothiana. She was supposed to be the mature one in the group! He blamed Frost for this. The boy obviously had a terrible influence on the Guardians.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll leave your torso alone.” She compromised, standing slowly.

“I’m not apologizing.” He sneered through his escalating terror, his eyes opening wide when she flipped him onto his back with her foot.

“Last chance, Pitch.” Toothiana cooed, hovering over him with one of her feathers pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She twirled it idly with a mischievous look on her face and a distinctly wicked glint in her eyes that struck genuine fear in Pitch’s heart. He scooted backwards hastily, tripping over his trailing robe, his eyes darting for an escape as she advanced.

“Wait, wait, wait!!! You can’t just-“ Pitch squeaked and tried to pull free as she caught the front of his robe and tugged it open mercilessly, pulling it down to his wrists to leave his entire torso completely exposed. “Let go!” He barked as he drew his legs up to his chest defensively, glowering at her over his knees. Toothiana raised the feather and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You have three seconds.” She warned, twirling the feather again.

“Now, Toothiana-“ He began shakily as he felt the blood drain from his face.

“One…”

“You wouldn’t-“

“Two…”

“Don’t-“

“Three!”

Pitch most certainly did _not_ shriek like a child when Toothiana lunged at him.

He shouted in an utterly manly way.

Most assuredly.

“AHAHAHAHAH! STOP IT!” He screamed hysterically, kicking fruitlessly at her as he succumbed to another laughing fit. She merely fluttered out of reach and attacked from behind, reaching around with the feather to tease his sides and neck relentlessly until he was reduced to a babbling wreak kicking and rolling in the snow.

“I don’t hear you begging~” She sang, brushing the feather down his neck.

“St-AHP! AHAHAHAH! Not the neck, not the neck, not the-AAAAAUGH!”

“Not even a ‘please’?”

“ahahahaHAHAHAHA! _F-fuck_ _you_!”

“Watch your language, Pitch.”

No matter how tightly he pressed his arms to his sides, she always found an opening. And no matter how desperately he thrashed, she always managed to subdue him with a devious flick of the feather.

“What’s that you were saying earlier about me being sensitive? Something about feathers?” Toothiana taunted over his latest cackling fit.

“I’ll kill you!” He gasped with tears in his eyes, before letting out a wild screech as she directed her assault on his armpits ruthlessly. He swore he was going to throw her into the smallest cage he had the second he got out of the lead cuffs. And he would give her all sorts of terrifying nightmares, personally.

His train of thought was derailed by a torturous twirl of the feather in his ear and he spasmed violently from the touch with a yelp.

“In that case, maybe I won’t let you go then.” Toothiana decided, dragging the feather down his side.

He had never been happier for night to end. The lightening sky was practically a godsend, and to his utter relief the Tooth Fairy stayed true to her word.

Pitch slumped against Toothiana in exhaustion as his pained hiccups of laughter slowly burned themselves out. As soon as her support disappeared he flopped onto his stomach with a groan, his sides aching, and his head throbbing. He felt a hand lift his face and brush his cheeks.

“If you don’t return my dagger by next week, I’ll drag you out of your lair myself and hang you out in the sun from the highest tower of my palace. Am I clear?” She whispered into his ear. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a breathless, pitiful whine.

Apparently satisfied with his answer, she unlocked the lead handcuffs that fell from his bruised wrists with a rattle.

Shadows rushed for their master the moment he was free, washing over him like a wave. Pitch let them engulf him, too tired to deal with moving just yet.

That damned woman had practically tickled him into submission!

Pitch rose with a feral snarl. She would pay for his humiliation! But when he turned he was faced with an empty clearing, and single feather stuck in the snow at his feet.

“Why that little-“ he cut himself off with a growl as his shadow danced with ire.

She wanted her dagger back?

Fine.

She’d get her dagger back.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, but I think it went pretty well, all things considered. Heads up: Pitch gets a little creepy, but Pitch will be Pitch.

Pitch had too much time on his hands, in Toothiana’s opinion. 

If she had as much free time as he seemed to have, she would have spent it doing something a little more productive than stalking. Didn’t he have better things to do, like making children cry? Why waste it by just trying to unnerve her?

At least, she was pretty sure that was what he was doing.

It was either that or she was just being paranoid, but after a week of the plaguing suspicion that she was not alone she wasn’t sure which option she preferred. All she knew was that she hadn’t had a moment’s reprieve from the persistent tingle on the back of her neck, and she’d been seeing shapes out of the corner of her eye that dove into hiding the moment she turned to look. Not to mention the unnatural nagging sensation of being watched and the fact that nothing was ever in the same spot that she left it in, which bothered her more than she would have liked to admit.

Jack had warned her ahead of time about what he considered to be Pitch's "special" brand of payback, which-in Jack's words-was a cross between a poltergeist and a slender man (whatever _that_ meant), but to say she had been prepared for it would have been a lie.

Regardless, if it was Pitch, he was being disquietingly patient, and she was going to be very, _very_ upset when he eventually revealed himself. She had explicitly told him never to enter the Tooth Palace again without her permission during his last little “visit”, an order he had clearly ignored when she found that both her scimitars and the lead handcuffs had been moved under her bed multiple times throughout the week. She was fairly sure he had been taking her loose feathers as well since, whenever one did fall out, it was usually gone by the end of the day when she went back to check the box where she put it in. Of course that might have just been the mini fairies who enjoyed playing and building things with her lost feathers.

Pitch had yet to return her dagger as well, much to her annoyance. She'd given him a week, and the deadline had come up fast without so much as a glimpse of definitive proof that he had the intention of returning it. If he had time to mess with her belongings then there was no reason why he couldn't just leave the dagger under her bed whenever he decided to hide something there. She hoped, for his sake, that he was planning to give it back otherwise she might have to make good on her threat and return to his lair to get it back herself, something she definitely did _not_ want to do considering her first (and hopefully last) venture there had gotten her stuck in a cage with the Bogeyman. But that dagger had been with her for centuries, and she certainly wasn't about to loose it to _him._

He was obviously building up to something unpleasant, and whatever it was he was planning was bound to be wicked. Knowing Pitch, it was probably going to be something underhanded and despicable, but it had to be better than constantly looking over her shoulder as she put her room back in order. She couldn’t so much as relax for a meal without chills racing down her spine. 

She had asked Baby Tooth if she had seen anything strange and only received a worried look and a mild suggestion to take a break from work. She _had_ been working unusually hard lately, but she had no interest in resting if she was going to be watched. As if she was going to go to sleep with Pitch leering at her from the shadows!

From what she could tell, Pitch was still scaring children under Sandy’s supervision, so how he managed to find time for following her was another mystery. She briefly entertained the thought of telling Sandy that Pitch was bothering her, but ultimately decided against it. She'd brought this on herself and if Pitch wanted revenge, fine, so long as he brought her dagger with him. She was sure she could handle any nightmare he threw her way. She couldn’t avoid sleep forever, and naps could only tide her over for so long. But really, was it all worth the effort, getting revenge for a little playfulness? It was hardly her fault he was so ticklish, and how could anyone resist the opportunity to make the Bogeyman squeal like a little girl?

Toothiana sat on her bed with a huff and glared at the floor, her nerves thoroughly worn, and her patience all but gone.

“Alright, Pitch. You win.” She announced to her empty bedroom grimly. She could feel his presence nagging at the back of her mind, instincts screaming at her to stay awake, but her eyes were prickling from lack of sleep and she could feel herself shutting down from exhaustion.

“I’m going to sleep. Do whatever you want, as long as I wake up in the morning.” She added, fighting back a yawn. She left the wall lamps lit and the drapes hanging around her bed open. Only the silk curtains in hanging in the entrance of the room were drawn shut.

There wasn’t so much as a flicker from the shadows and she scowled at the silence that she received in response.

“Ass…” She muttered, crawling under the blankets. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

 

 

“Toothiana~”

Something was touching her face.

“Wake up, darling~” Pitch crooned sweetly, brushing a hand down her cheek. Toothiana’s eyes snapped open.

Pitch was leaning over her bed, his eyes gleaming like a pair of candles. The shadows seemed to bend and distort unnaturally behind him, and she saw blurred shapes flitting in the corners of her eyes disconcertingly. Upon seeing her awaken, a sharp grin split his face, his jagged teeth shining eerily in the dark. The wall lamp must have gone out, because aside from the pitifully weak starlight that snuck through the window it was completely dark in her room, and Toothiana’s heart leapt when her body failed to do the same. She couldn’t move an inch. His smile widened.

She couldn't move. She couldn't even control her breathing, which remained calm and steady despite the rising panic in her chest, and every move she attempted to make had tingles biting at her muscles. And why was she lying on her back? She never slept on her back, her wings made it too uncomfortable. Toothiana tried to organize her thoughts as they spiraled out of control. She had thought he would give her a nightmare, or bother her with indistinct sounds to set her on edge and keep her awake. What had he _done_ to her? 

“Don’t get up on my account. You won’t be able to anyway.” He told her chillingly, all smiles.

There was a rustling sound as the blankets were abruptly pulled away. She hadn’t noticed the security they provided until it was gone, and she sorely wanted it back when Pitch swiftly climbed onto the bed and sat squarely on her lap. His legs were long enough that he could have straddled her easily without ever having to touch her, so when she felt him sit contentedly on her hips she knew he was doing it on purpose. At least he was smart enough not to crush her, she thought irritably.

“It’s called hypnopompic sleep paralysis.” Pitch explained, making himself comfortable. “A handy little trick of mine, I’ve been doing this for centuries. It’s such a nice break from the monotony of giving nightmares and hiding under beds. Don’t you agree?” He went on cheerfully, resting his hands on her chest. She didn’t realize what he was doing until the slow pressure of his weight began to bare down on her ribcage, unhurriedly pushing air from her lungs and making it difficult to breathe. She couldn’t so much as twitch in resistance and an involuntary jolt of alarm flashed through her mind.

“What do you think? It’s horrifying, isn’t it? Being _trapped_ in your own body.” He emphasized the word “trapped” evocatively, and if Toothiana had any control over her body he would have been pinned to the wall by her scimitars in an instant. The fact that she couldn’t sent another wave of fear down her spine, especially with the downright predatory look she was getting as Pitch drummed his fingers on her chest in time with her heartbeat and gave a satisfied hum.

“Mmm. Lovely. Simply marvelous.” His voice was a breathy sigh as he tipped his head back and dug his fingers into her chest, his eyes drifting shut lazily. “You have no _idea_ how starved I am.” He moaned quietly, seeming to take a moment to savor her fear. He peeked at her from under his eyelids after a moment and his face broke into another toothy grin.

“Don’t give me that look. You told me to do whatever I wanted, so I am.” Pitch reminded her smugly, cocking his head. He leaned closer, his fingers combing through her crest feathers as he trailed his other hand along her collarbone, kneading the flesh under her feathers with his fingers.

“And what I want, is a taste of that delicious terror of yours.” He whispered sinisterly. His mouth was scarcely an inch from her face, and his voice made her blood run cold as his fingers brushed her scalp. If she could move, she was sure she would have been shaking. He laughed softly and nuzzled her neck in mock affection. She felt a fresh surge of fear and Pitch’s body shuddered in response, his hips shifting against her restlessly.

“I could kill you right now, you know. I could do any number of unspeakable things and you wouldn’t be able to raise a finger.” He reminded her unnecessarily, groaning softly into her neck. The sound of his voice was almost hypnotic in the heavy silence of the room. He caressed her face with deceptive tenderness, coaxing the spark of fear in her chest into a flame. His hand dipped to her throat, and he regarded her curiously, flexing his fingers.

“Scared, dear?” Pitch seized her chin gently and turned her head as he studied her face. Toothiana willed some of her glare to pierce through the paralysis that gripped her and chased out her fear with a surge of rage, choosing to let it burn in her veins for as long as possible.

“You are. You’re scared and that makes you _angry_ , doesn’t it?” He tilted his head, regarding her with a glimmer of amusement. “You don’t get _scared_ , you get mad.” his voice dropped to a hiss.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You must be furious.” He laughed, sitting more fully on her lap. He was right, and that only served to infuriate her more.

“Yes. How dare I, a weak, disobedient shadow, scare you, the fierce warrior queen of Punjam Hy Loo? I should grovel under your feet where I belong, like a good little shadow.” He diverted, tracing her jaw with one finger absently.

“But I’m not a good shadow, am I?” He murmured, his breath hot on the side of her face. “I’ve disobeyed. What will you do to me, I wonder?” he mused thoughtfully, stroking her cheek as his lips brushed against her temple lightly.

Toothiana could think of a number of things she would have liked to do to him at that moment. 

For starters, she certainly wouldn’t allow him on her bed. The bed was much too good for him. He could sit on the floor, kneeling, because she shouldn’t be towered over by someone so low. He would have to have his hands bound too, behind his back preferably. He didn’t deserve to use them. She would have to do something about that mouth of his, while she was at it. He shouldn't be allowed to speak without her permission either. Those eyes would need to be covered as well, so he wouldn’t be able to see what her next move would be.

It was a good start, and a shame she couldn't act upon it considering the rather handsome sight it made. He would have looked good in chains, and he was more than flexible enough to handle any number of the contorted positions that she might want to tie him into.

“That reminds me!” Pitch exclaimed breaking the mental image that seared its way into Toothiana's mind as he straightened suddenly, much to her relief. He reached into his robe, rummaging through some hidden pocket, and her heart froze at the metallic glint that flashed in the weak light trickling in from the window through the curtains as he held her dagger aloft carelessly.

“You wanted your dagger back, didn’t you?” He twirled the blade dexterously over her chest, a dangerous grin on his face. One slip of the hand would have ended badly for her, and he knew it fully well.

“Lovely craftsmanship, and sharp to the touch! Certainly not anything new though. An heirloom perhaps?” He inquired, appraising the dagger keenly as he ran his thumb down the edge of the blade.

Black blood welled along the skin where he’d been cut, trickling down his wrist like spilled ink. It dripped sluggishly onto her stomach and sunk into her feathers.

“You know, it really is too bad you didn’t have this with you during our little romp in the snow.” He complained, turning the blade in his hand idly. “It would have made the experience that much more… _stimulating_.” He purred provocatively as he twirled the dagger one final time and poised it over her throat.

“Well, this chat has been splendid, but it appears our time is up. I hope you enjoy working on three hours of sleep.” He told her deviously, raising the dagger preparing to strike.

“Ta darling~” He brought the blade down.

Toothiana gasped for air, control suddenly flooding through her limbs as she bolted upright, the blankets falling away from her chest, even though she was certain they’d been pulled off, and scanned the room in a panic.

Pitch was gone.

She turned as a glint of light caught her eye, and blinked numbly at the sight of her dagger buried up to its hilt in her pillow, barely an inch from where her head had lain.

“That ass.” She muttered groggily, pulling the blade free in to inspect the sizable hole that had been left in its wake. He'd returned it at the last minute, but at least she wouldn't have to chase him down to get it back anymore. And with luck, he'd leave her stuff alone again too. Paralyzing someone in their bed was more than enough payback for being tickled into a giggling wreck.

He owed her a pillow, and a week's worth of sleep and peace of mind. She could already tell she hadn’t gotten nearly enough rest, and was going to be fighting back yawns all day.

Shaking her plumage out, she stretched her wings and returned the dagger to its sheath on her belt, which hung from a peg in the wall over her cabinet, pausing when she caught sight of her stomach. The feathers on her belly were a sticky mess of black blood that was going to be a pain to clean with the way they had dried. She scowled at the blood in annoyance.

On impulse, she opened the cabinet and withdrew the heavy lead handcuffs with a rattle. She weighed the cuffs thoughtfully, frowning at them. It might have been time for a quick visit to North’s workshop to ask Phil for another favor. She set the cuffs aside with a weary sigh.

She’d deal with Pitch later. First, she had work to do.


	12. Chapter 12

Pitch returned to his lair feeling hot and constricted. He fell back onto the first wall he came across as he allowed his composure to crumble away, and was dismayed when the cool stone proved to be no match against his burning skin. 

Toothiana’s fear was still buzzing in his veins and for a brief moment he thought he had brought her thundering heartbeat along with him until he realized that the pounding in his ears was coming from his own chest. After sustaining himself on sips and drops of fear for the last few years, her wave of terror had nearly drowned him, but it had been in the best of ways. He swallowed thickly.

She had been so warm and solid beneath his hands. He flexed his fingers ruefully, pressing his palms against the stone as he turned to face the wall and tried to take his mind away from the lingering warmth on his body where he had touched her.

She would be furious.

She already _was_ furious.

He had seen it in her eyes. She would be out for blood as soon as her strength returned he just knew it.

What would she _do_ to him, indeed? He trembled at the possibilities.

Maybe she would chase him down herself this time, rather than herding him into a trap with her fairies. A warrior queen would be no stranger to the hunt, having grown up in a jungle.

Would she bind him with lead again and prolong the torment even further? Daybreak would not save him this time. Maybe she would use her knife, like he had recommended.

Now _that_ was a thought. He shivered and dug his fingers into the stone to keep them from straying below his waist. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall, feeling the tension in his gut building until he ached for some sort of relief.

Pitch drew a long, shuddering breath as his eyes found the burning cut he’d given himself from her knife across his thumb.

His inky blood was running down the stone in a sluggish stream, the pain from the wound forgotten. She was probably cleaning his blood off of herself at that very moment.

He let his hand drop and gripped the erection that had been straining against his pants, feeling two different fluids soak through either side of the tented fabric. He let out a low whine as he dragged his thumb slowly over the wet spot.

It had been _so long_.

That little escapade at New Year’s didn’t count. He had been drunk. The fleeting snatches he could recall almost made him wish he had been sober. It wasn’t fair

What did she remember? She had been drunk too. Drunk enough to bed him, obviously, which he assumed meant that she had to have been very inebriated indeed. But he doubted that a little alcohol could stop her from remembering all the intimate little details of what had transpired. She was the Guardian of _Memories_ after all.

Did she enjoy it? The thought was a bit too much for him to hope for. He knew _he_ had, in spite of himself. But that had been easy. Maybe she had enjoyed it, but it wasn’t as though that meant anything. She hadn’t needed it. Not like he had.

It had been a mistake. Completely unintentional. They had been drunk. It never would have happened otherwise, of that he was certain.

A moan escaped him as he tightened his grip and rubbed himself languidly. He savored the sensation, his eyes fluttering shut as his thoughts lingered on those brief flashes of memory.

She had been so light on his chest, holding him down even when the sheer difference in size and weight alone should have been enough to put him on top. Every thrust had been a battle with her. She had scored line after line of scratches across his back before pushing him down to give his chest the same treatment. The scratches had healed weeks ago, but he could still feel their sting.

Pitch sunk his teeth into his lip with a grunt, his movements quickening as he remembered for the barest instant what it had been like inside of her. Hot and powerful, he never would have guessed that she was hiding such a treasure under all that jewel-like plumage.

Her feathers, he recalled vividly. They had been softer than he could ever imagine when they had slid against his stinging flesh. Her feathers alone could bring him to his knees. Part of him was itching to grab one of the scant few he had stolen from her to use against his skin because the light caresses through his pants simply weren’t enough to replicate their airy touch, but he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from the wall that kept him upright. He contented himself with imagining the effortless glide of feathers sliding along his length with each stroke.

There was a familiar heat coiling in his belly now as he struggled with the clasp on his pants.

_“… Pitch….?!”_

Pitch froze, his hand stilling as he was rudely ripped from his reverie, the fantasy shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, and he groaned in frustration at how close he had been as he pulled his hand away from himself.

Onyx should have been guarding the entrance, so how had someone gotten in? He cast his senses through the shadows in search of the errant nightmare and found nothing. Ah, that explained it. She had gone out. He hissed furiously under his breath at the distraction, his lips twisting into a snarl as he summoned his scythe and spun away from the wall.

MiM help whomever he found.

 

 

 

“I take it you’re still mad?” Jack asked, looking remarkably calm despite coming perilously close to being beheaded. He stared straight ahead over the menacing blade that curved around his throat and adjusted his grip on the box in his arms when it started to slip. It barely fit under his arm, and Pitch was almost impressed that he managed to carry it with one hand occupied by his staff. 

“I take it you’d prefer to remain in one piece? I suggest you leave now before my hand slips.” Pitch sneered back, already envisioning the swing he’d use to decapitate the boy. To his disappointment, Jack remained outwardly unfazed. His mood plummeted further when he noticed the iridescent ball of feathers clinging to Jack’s shoulder. He had brought one of Toothiana’s fairies along. Wonderful.

“Bad time?” Jack guessed with a slight frown.

“Take a wild guess.” Pitch snarled.

“Don’t worry, I planned for this.” Jack assured him; nearly businesslike in the way he leaned carefully away from the scythe to duck under the blade. He set the box down beside the globe with a relieved huff as the fairy glared at Pitch from Jack’s shoulder. Pitch could have sworn she stuck her tongue out at him.

He was already beginning to regret not following through with the swing when Jack started digging around in the box’s contents, and he closed his eyes for a long while trying to rein in his temper. Despite what he wanted to do, slaughtering the boy would not help his situation in the slightest.

“I’m in no mood to entertain you today, Frost.” Pitch growled at last, adjusting the scythe so he could be ready to take another swing when the urge inevitably struck him again.

“It’s been two months since I last visited you, so that excuse isn’t going to work.” Jack said, unsympathetic to Pitch’s mood and mercifully oblivious to its cause.

“I thought I had made myself clear during your last visit that I would use you and your beloved staff as firewood if I ever saw you here again.” Pitch tightened his grip on the scythe meaningfully, baring his teeth.

“If I remember correctly, you told me you didn’t want to catch me as far into your lair as those pools of water again. As you can see, I am sitting next to the globe, ergo I am not that far into your lair.” Jack replied, reaching up to tap the steel plate of Africa with his knuckles.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, boy.” Pitch hissed, bristling in fury as his threat went ignored.

“Relax, I brought gifts.” Jack defused as he went about unloading the box with the mini fairy’s unproductive attempts to help.

“Did you now?” Pitch lowered the scythe and peered over Jack’s shoulder, pointedly ignoring the looks he received from the mini fairy. If he ever needed evidence of Toothiana’s honest opinion of him, he had to look no further than the nearest miniature copy of her. Said copy was shooting him glares at every opportunity. It was immature, but it got the point across. She didn’t like him at all. That certainly helped take some of the fire from his veins.

He scowled at the apparent gifts. A plastic box of heart shaped Valentine’s Day cookies covered in red and pink sugar, a bag of those abhorrent chalky heart candies with equally disgusting words of endearment stamped on them, a red heart shaped box undoubtedly full of assorted chocolate, and to top off the sickening arrangement there was a gratuitously large card shaped like the classic winged, infantile, arrow wielding cupid. If nothing else, it would make for excellent target practice, but he failed to see any use for the rest of the “gifts”.

“How deplorable. For what purpose?” Pitch growled through his teeth, already knowing the answer.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. Duh. And before you ask, no you are not the only one getting these.” Jack snorted as plopped down with his back against the globe and pried open the box of cookies. The fairy on his shoulder squeaked sharply when she was offered a cookie, looking at the food with obvious disgust. Jack simply shrugged and turned to Pitch, holding out the cookie wordlessly.

Pitch’s scowl deepened at the offering as he glared at the romantic paraphernalia littering his globe room contemptuously. “Frost-“

“Hey—before I forget—where’s Onyx? I brought something for him too.” Jack interrupted, lowering the cookie to rummage through his hoodie pocket.

“ _She_ is out. Now if you don’t mind-“ Pitch began, refusing to let himself be distracted from his anger.

“Onyx is a girl?” Jack asked, tugging out a bundle of cloth from his hoodie pocket as he looked up at Pitch in surprise. Pitch could feel his eye twitching.

“Yes. She is.” He bit out sharply as Jack set aside the cloth bundle apparently reserved for his absentee nightmare that really should have been doing a better job of guarding his lair from brats. Onyx had been in the habit of sneaking out lately—not that he was one to talk seeing as he had spent the last week lurking after the Tooth Fairy—but the nightmare was entirely too inclined towards causing mischief and Sanderson’s disregard of the behavior was almost as worrying as the possibility of punishment. If he didn’t know any better, Pitch might have guessed that the Sandman was fond of Onyx and it was only a matter of time before something important was eaten. Pitch didn’t look forward to finding out what it was when that day finally came.

“Huh… how can you-ohhh, night _mare_ , I get it. That’s funny.” Jack sniggered, patting the ground beside him cordially.

Pitch narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, Pitch. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get here with that box? I had to _walk_. Just sit down and help me figure out what’s in these chocolates.” Jack appeased, shaking the chocolates temptingly.

“You aren’t leaving until I sit, are you?” Pitch guessed, his stomach sinking.

“Yup.” Jack had opened the heart shaped box and was squinting at the candies suspiciously.

“And if I don’t you’re going to find some way to inconvenience me with ice?”

“Mmhm.”

With another long pause and a resigned sigh, Pitch reluctantly sat beside the winter sprite, nudging the empty box and the store-bought cookies between them. He allowed his scythe to dissolve into the shadows while he reached across and plucked a chocolate from the box grumpily.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can’t just reach in and grab one like that!” Jack exclaimed. Pitch closed his eyes and had to take several deep breaths to keep from doing something unpleasant; steeling himself for the nonsense he was about to endure.

“Use your words, Frost. I’m not going to translate your blathering.” He picked up the cupid shaped card and growled at the glitter that came off on his hands.

“You didn’t even know what was inside it!” Jack elaborated, looking as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Pitch raised an eyebrow slowly. “Was there meant to be a prank inside one of those?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft. Oh the things he would do if Jack thought to poison him with tampered chocolates.

“No! God no! It’s just that no one ever knows what’s supposed to be in these so you never know if you’re gonna get something you hate.” Jack explained hastily, directing his attention back to the remaining chocolates. He scrutinized them with an increased intensity as though if he stared hard enough their centers would become apparent.

“Well everyone is a fool but me then. I’m not surprised.” Pitch replied dully, flipping open the card to snarl at its contents. The pre-printed “Happy Valentine’s Day” greeting had been scribbled out violently. Below it “I’m sorry I saw you naked” was scrawled sloppily with pen in the blank space allotted for handwritten messages, as well as an admittedly amiable drawing of a cartoonish Jack looking flustered. _Tactful. Very Tactful._ He thought sarcastically.

“What was in the chocolate then? And how could you tell?” Jack was balancing on the balls of his feet as he thrust the box out towards Pitch, excitement rolling off of him in waves.

Pitch narrowed his eyes disbelievingly. Only Bunnymund ever got excited about such a trivial thing as chocolate. Those occasions were often followed by a pooka with six arms trying to kill him, but the passion was still there, and it was impressive how devoutly the treat was defended.

“If you really want to know what’s inside without having to take a bite, why not just have your little friend stick her beak into them and find out that way?” He suggested uninterestedly, tossing the card aside. One look from the fairy made it clear she was most definitely _not_ using her beak to investigate the chocolate tooth rotter, so Jack quickly abandoned the idea.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Guess I’ve gotta test my luck, thanks a lot Baby Tooth.” Jack replied, giving the fairy a good-humored glare that she sassily returned. Pitch paused in his inspection of the flecks of glitter that had gotten stuck to his robe and frowned at the familiar name.

“Baby Tooth?” He echoed blankly, glancing over at the still rather unwelcomed pair critically. He kept hearing that name over and over again from not only Jack, but also Toothiana. How many Baby Tooths were there?

Jack gave him an odd look. “What?” he asked perplexedly. Pitch looked away and massaged his temples.

“I cannot believe I’m asking this, but who the _hell_ is Baby Tooth?” He demanded after a moment. Jack blinked at him slowly.

“… The mini fairy…?” he pointed at the ball of fluff on his shoulder uncertainly. The mini fairy was looking at Pitch in disbelief, and even gestured to herself as though unable to comprehend the fact that Pitch simply _did not_ know who she was, like it was impossible for there to be someone out there who didn’t recognize her immediately. Pitch seethed in annoyance.

“There are hundreds of mini fairies. Do you honestly mean to tell me that each and every single one of them is named Baby Tooth?” Pitch grit out through his teeth. Jack shook his head slowly.

“No. Just this one.” He replied, holding out his hand for the fairy to step onto. Baby Tooth—the one and only—looked insulted that Pitch had apparently failed to distinguish her.

“Just that one?” Pitch repeated, narrowing his eyes.

“Yup, just this one. She’s with me all the time. What, you mean you don’t recognize her?” Jack asked, holding her up a little higher.

Should Pitch have recognized her? He couldn’t recall. Baby Tooth gestured to herself again inquisitively, as if that would help jog his memory. Pitch shook his head, willing himself to keep his temper with how slow Jack was to ease his confusion.

“Oh. Well she’s… um. This is the mini fairy that you… uh… Remember Antarctica?” Jack fumbled hesitantly, giving Pitch a weak smile. Pitch frowned, his brow furrowing in consideration as he forced himself to think back to that unpleasant day. He remembered the important bits like breaking Jack’s staff and knocking him into a ravine. But hadn’t there also been a… Pitch’s mouth opened in a silent “o” and Jack nodded.

“Yeah, that one. Same fairy.” Jack confirmed. His smile looked a bit forced. Pitch fell silent, deep in thought.

So… she was the fairy at Antarctica, the fairy that tailed Jack during all his little visits, the fairy that had caught him hiding under Toothiana’s bed the first time, the fairy that had followed him for a week solely to annoy him, the fairy that had accompanied Jack into the lair when Toothiana had been trapped in a cage, and the fairy that—according to Toothiana—had seen them during New Year’s while they were…

Pitch felt his face heat up in realization.

“Are you sure?” He asked guardedly, scrutinizing the fairy a bit harder. Was she really that conspicuous? What made her so special?

“What do you mean ‘are you sure?’ Of course I’m sure!” Jack said defensively, pulling the mini fairy closer.

“How can you tell?” Pitch scanned Baby Tooth intensely, to her apparent discomfort. Was there some sort of deformity? A scar perhaps? There wasn’t any that he could see, so how…?

“Well, she’s got this bright gold feather here, see?” Jack gestured to the fairy’s head and Baby Tooth reached up to straighten the single long golden crest feather proudly, puffing up in display.

“They don’t all have that?” Pitch wondered aloud. It wasn’t as though he ever bothered to look, but he could have sworn all of them had a golden crest feather. What color could it possibly have been otherwise?

“Nope. Only Baby Tooth. I can’t believe you never noticed. You really thought they were all named Baby Tooth?” Jack was trying not to laugh as Pitch straightened and crossed his arms to hide his discomfiture.

“Need I remind you of the names of North’s elves? Dingle, I believe. All of them.” Pitch pointed out, unimpressed.

Jack shrugged and waved it off, choosing a chocolate from the box. Pitch allowed himself a faint smirk at the look of utter disgust that distorted Jack’s face.

“The ones with lumps have the nuts in them, Jack.” Pitch told him unhelpfully as the winter sprite spat into an empty wrapper.

“Laugh it up, Pitch. You’re lucky I’m not allergic.” Jack grumbled, looking reluctant to try the remaining chocolates. Pitch reached over, making sure to pick one of the chocolates without nuts to increase the odds of Jack making the same error, if he ever tried again.

“Oh I am, Frost. On the inside. Your suffering is like a soothing balm for the festering wounds that your visits have given me.” Pitch vented poetically, eating the chocolate dispassionately. “Serves you right.” He added with an audible note of malice.

“Jeez, first Tooth, now you. What’s got everyone in such a bad mood today?” Jack complained in exasperation, looking at Baby Tooth in dismay.

“Something’s wrong with Toothiana?” Pitch asked a bit faster than he would have liked, perking up in interest.

“Yeah. Ran into her while I was picking up Baby Tooth. Literally. She said she overslept and bit my head off about flying in her airspace or something.” Jack complained, crossing his arms and looking hurt. Baby Tooth gave him a reassuring pat on the cheek and trilled softly.

“A woman needs her beauty sleep.” Pitch remarked, looking away to chuckle in amusement. So the Queen had overslept because of him. How charming.

“Don’t laugh, Tooth works hard!” Jack defended. Baby Tooth bristled in fury at the derisive snort Pitch made in response. “She does!”

“Oh yes, I’m sure she does.” Pitch agreed sardonically.

“She _does_!” Jack repeated in a louder voice.

“With all those fairies to collect the teeth for her, I’m sure it must be _so_ difficult.” Pitch replied scathingly.

Baby Tooth darted in front of his face close enough for him to feel the air disturbed by her wings against his cheeks and unleashed a passionate monologue of shrill squeaks and chirps. Pitch fought back laughter until his shoulders shook as he blinked in bemusement at the long incomprehensible tirade.

“Now, now, don’t get your feathers in a bunch, sweetheart.” He chided patronizingly as he caught her tail between his thumb and forefinger before she could stab him in the face with her beak. He gave her the toothiest grin he could manage and flicked her into Jack’s lap. She squeaked as she hit the fabric of Jack’s hoodie and brandished a certain finger in his direction.

“It _is_ difficult.” Jack reiterated sternly, trying to break open one of the chocolates with his fingers to see what was inside.

“I don’t care.” Pitch said indifferently, nibbling on a caramel square from the box. Jack rolled his eyes.

“Figures.” Jack snorted with a roll of his eyes, straightening when something in the shadows caught his attention. “Hey, Onyx! Come’re! I brought something for you!” Jack exclaimed, his voice echoing through the cavern. Sure enough, Onyx was peeking her head around a nearby archway shyly, eyeing Pitch apprehensively. She knew she was in trouble for letting Jack in.

With a heavy sigh, Pitch waved the nightmare over. Her ears perked immediately and she trotted towards them. Pitch raised an eyebrow at the bounce in his nightmare’s step as she approached Jack expectantly, pretending not to feel a little stung at being ignored by his own nightmare.

Onyx walked right up to Jack to snort in his hair and nuzzle his stomach searchingly, the frightening proximity making the mini fairy squeak and crawl into Jack’s hood. As Onyx was rooting through his clothes Jack held up the cloth wrapping that Pitch had seen earlier, a wide grin on his face.

“Looking for this?”

Onyx lunged for the bundle only for Jack to snatch it out of her reach quickly. 

“Nope, nope, nope. You gotta sit.” Jack reprimanded, dodging the nightmare’s snapping jaws with each “nope”, shaking the bundle tantalizingly.

Onyx stomped her hoof impatiently, narrowly crushing Jack’s foot, but reluctantly retreated a few steps, her tail flicking as she waited for some sort of signal from Jack.

“Sit” Jack ordered. To Pitch’s utter disbelief his nightmare sat on her haunches obediently with a chuff.

“Good nightmare! Here you go.” Jack got up to set out the bundle, carefully unfolding the cloth and backing away as Onyx charged towards the reward in reckless abandon, hooves sliding precariously over the stone. Pitch glimpsed a small pile of white cubes sitting on the unfolded handkerchief, glinting in the light of the globe with odd flecks of gold before a long black tongue scooped them up.

“Are those from…” he began slowly, dumbfounded.

“Sugar cubes from Sandy. I’ve been filching them from his place whenever he invites me over.” Jack explained shamelessly, opening the bag of chalky heart candies.

“I see. And how long have you been… training my nightmare?” Pitch asked stiffly over the loud crinkle of plastic. This certainly explained why she had let Jack in. She had been expecting a treat, the spoiled beast.

“About a month and a half. The trick is to bribe her with a pinch of dreamsand. Sandy would probably kill me if he found out but it’s only a little bit, and look how happy it makes her!” Jack beamed at Onyx proudly.

Pitch narrowed his eyes critically. She certainly looked happy, licking away at the dreamsand imbued sugar cubes. But…

“So that’s why she’s gotten fat.”

Onyx lifted her head suddenly with an affronted huff, her ears falling flat in offense.

“What? No! She’s not fat! She’s normal sized.” Jack protested defensively. Pitch rolled his eyes.

“Definitely fat.” Pitch concluded bluntly, much to Onyx’s and Jack’s disapproval. “I suppose more exercise will be in order if she keeps eating like that. An all dreamsand diet is terribly unhealthy, just look at Sanderson.” Pitch declared, smirking at the way Onyx clopped her hooves loudly in protest, still cleaning away traces of sugar from her lips with long sweeps of her tongue.

“Well if you didn’t want that then maybe you shouldn’t have eaten all of those sugar cubes, love.” He told her smugly, ignoring her shrill shrieks.

“Aw come on Pitch, don’t be mean.” Jack scolded playfully, flicking a heart shaped candy at Pitch’s nose.

“Says the boy who got her fat in the first place. Over feeding is a very serious matter, Jackson.” Pitch countered, picking up the candy from where it had landed in his lap. _Dear Heart_ , the candy read. Pitch snorted and threw it back twice as hard, making Jack yelp as it hit his cheek.

There was bound to be a good storm brewing somewhere on the dark side of the planet for him to set Onyx loose in. It had been far too long since he’d given her a good run. He’d handle it tonight then. But first, he had some urges to indulge in. _Privately_. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took me so long. My writing process is a mess. I can't wait for school to be over so I can relax (and procrastinate on getting a job). Hope you enjoy~

Toothiana hated rain.

She hated storms in general.

No offense to Jack. A little snow was fine, don’t get her wrong, but storms were awful. High-speed flights through wind and rain made each drop feel like a bullet against her skin and although her feathers could shed water, they still got a bit soaked after a while. Of course none of these things could stop her from flying into foul weather in search of lost teeth. After all, if high winds and hazardous weather conditions gave _her_ trouble, she could only imagine the difficulties it gave her mini fairies. A powerful gust that buffeted her wings could carry one of her fairies completely off course, and if hail hurt for her, it could cause serious injury to a fairy. So when weather became too tough for her fairies Toothiana herself came out to muscle her way through the storm.

Tonight she rather wished she could have stayed at home.

It was cold, Toothiana was soaked to the bone, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a week, and she had almost fallen out of the sky three times. She knew exactly whose fault it was, and the next time she saw Pitch she had half a mind to wring his handsome neck and shake him for all he was worth.

Two teeth and four close collisions with rooftops later, she was forcing her way through the fierce winds to the final house before she could head home and take the longest nap of her life.

The child’s bedroom was lit by the warm glow of a candle shaped nightlight and it was mercifully dry, if a bit chilly. Toothiana smiled at the mess of hair peeking out from under the covers as she approached the bed, stepping carefully around scattered toys and discarded clothes.

She reached for the belt around her waist with one hand and fished a quarter from the gold coin dispenser on her hip as she slipped her hand under the child’s pillow and felt around for the tooth, her stomach lurching at the empty sheet she felt instead. She could still sense the tooth nearby, but why wasn’t it under the pillow? Had it fallen off the bed? She got on her hands and knees, pressing her cheek to the ground as she looked under the bed.

There was a bestial sniffing sound and Toothiana gasped at the pair of burning eyes that opened right in front of her nose. She had a split second to brace herself for impact before a dark shape overtook her and plunged her into darkness.

When she opened her eyes, she could see nothing, and a deep chill permeated her bones.

She tried to move, but a horribly familiar tingle pricked at her limbs and a flare of panic engulfed her body when it refused to respond. There was something surrounding her, she realized after a moment of futile struggling. She was in a cage.

The crisscrossing wire bars of a cage hugged her body so tightly that she could scarcely breathe, pinning her arms to her sides and her wings to her back. The iron was cold and dug into her cheek as she tried to find her bearings. From what she could tell, her prison was hung in complete darkness. She could feel the subtle sway of the cage as she squirmed in the narrow space, rattling the wire but otherwise immobile.

Her breath came fast and shallow as she tried to gather enough air for a scream, only able to manage a feeble wheeze. It was too tight in the wire cage, the space was too small, the wire was too close, and she couldn’t move and she couldn’t get out but she needed to _leave_. _Now_.

A far-off shriek announced the presence of something sinister. A nightmare on the hunt. She could feel the all too familiar kick of terror that her mini fairies had suffered as they were devoured one-by-one, snatched right out of the air and dragged underground into the dark.

No light reached her but she could have sworn she had caught a glint of steel in the unyielding shadows, and she could feel something prowling around her. The darkness slithered like something alive, and made her skin crawl as unseen eyes scoured her body. Something coiled behind her, its proximity setting her nerves alight with energy and sent shivers of fear down her spine.

A hot puff of air ghosted over the side of her cheek and raised nearly every feather on her body. She shook as an icy panic swept through her veins, struggling against the wire automatically.

“Scared, dear?” A voice murmured. Its tones were deep and rich with amusement as a hand closed around her neck, unhindered by the cage. Another soft gust ruffled her feathers, carrying a dark chuckle with it. Her straining eyes glimpsed another metallic flash in the dark and she stiffened as what scarce space she had left was quickly filled by a set of shadowy limbs that wrapped around her body. The fingers flexed around her throat and sent a visceral tremor down her spine. Her breath stopped completely when the hand tightened, and the limbs surrounding her began to squeeze, crushing her slowly and mercilessly. “Let me taste your fear.” The voice hissed against her cheek, the hint of teeth grazing her skin. She could feel a set of fingers bury themselves in the feathers of her stomach, digging into her like knife blades, making her stiffen with unease.

A long tongue licked a burning stripe up the side of her face and Toothiana woke with a squeal, flailing as she was unexpectedly wrenched from the nightmare. She looked up and was met with the sight of a dark grainy muzzle and a mouthful of unnaturally sharp equine teeth scarcely an inch from her face.

The nightmare’s nostrils flared wide to snort in Toothiana’s face and she flinched as she felt a rough tongue lick away the dreamsand that had gathered in the corners of her eyes while she slept. It felt like someone was scrubbing her cheeks with sandpaper.

“Gah!” She swatted at the nightmare with a snarl and sat up quickly, her eyes stinging. The nightmare made a hasty retreat, its cry echoing strangely as it fled.

Toothiana wiped at her face disgruntledly, scowling at the black sand that came away on her fingers, trying to gather her thoughts. The grains clung tenaciously, and it would take a day at least before all traces could be cleaned so she could sleep soundly again. Annoyed, she cast her eyes about the room she had woken up in and felt every last one of her feathers stand on end as she took in the sight of the rough stone walls that surrounded her and the very unfamiliar bed beneath her. More than half of the room was lost in shadow, but from what she could see it was a bedroom of sorts judging by the massive four-poster bed whose duvets seemed determined to swallow her whole.

Beside the bed a feeble candle guttered piteously on a plate overladen with gobbets of dried wax atop a downright ancient looking nightstand, and Toothiana stared at the light pensively for a moment, expecting it to sputter out of existence at any moment. Her belt sat alongside the candle, gleaming in the candlelight. Heart thudding, Toothiana kicked herself free of the heavy bedcovers and crawled towards the candle, reaching for her belt wearily. Her tooth case and coin dispenser were untouched, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of her dagger glinting in its sheath. Fastening the belt around her waist, she straightened and narrowed her eyes at the room.

There was barely enough light to see by, but as she peered around she loosely identified the lumpy shape of what might have been a desk burdened with stacks upon stacks of books, the vague impression of a chair also seemingly in use as a makeshift bookrest, and an actual bookshelf so laden with books and seemingly random trinkets that she could see why every other piece of furniture had also taken up its job.

Without hesitation she pried the candle free where it’s overflow of wax had gotten it stuck fast, plate and all, to the nightstand and lifted the sorry flame a little higher so that its flickering light reached farther into the ominous darkness.

Where on earth was she?

The air was cold and its stillness set her teeth on edge as she took flight hesitantly, wincing at the sound of her wing beats, which seemed horribly loud compared to the deathly silence that surrounded her. She almost wanted to walk, but the thought of doing so inexplicably made her want to tuck her feet in and fly a little higher, not to mention the fact that the floor was just as cluttered as the furniture. Shivering, she fluttered towards a patch of unnervingly deep shadows, pleased to find an uneven doorway carved in the rock. Naturally, it was then that the candle’s feeble light fell over a pair of gleaming eyes and a narrow face to give her what was without a doubt the biggest scare she’d ever had in her very long life.

Toothiana shrieked and nearly threw the candle through the doorway, remembering the flame too late as it was smothered by the pool of liquid wax that had gathered around its wick. Her hand was on her dagger before she could think as phantom bursts of light danced in her eyes, unable to cope with the complete blackness.

“Easy, Toothiana! It’s just me.”

“ _Pitch?!_ ” Toothiana wasn’t sure whether she should have felt relieved or not, flying backwards instinctively at how close his voice sounded.

“Yes. Who else did you think—don’t knock over the books!” The back of her knee collided with something very solid (a stack of books, from the feel of it), and she promptly tumbled over, flinching as hot wax spilled over her arm. Her squeak of surprise was lost in the resulting crash as the heavy tomes hit the floor, and she caught the end of a longsuffering sigh when the deafening racket faded. “I _told_ you not to do that…”

“How exactly did you expect me to see them?” Toothiana groaned as she sat up, rubbing her rear where she had landed on the corner of a particularly sturdy hardcover book. It was going to leave an impressive bruise later.

Hopelessly blind as she was, Toothiana was very much unprepared for when she heard the sound of a drawer being opened somewhere behind her. She spun quickly and felt her elbow hit the corner of another stack of books that she was quick to steady with one hand, struggling to find her bearings as the drawer’s contents were rummaged through.

“Give me that. You’re getting wax all over the place.” Pitch spat as the glob of candle was snatched out of her hand. He had no trouble navigating in the dark, unsurprisingly, and Toothiana shuddered at the unpleasant advantage he had over her.

There was the sound of a match being struck and she watched as Pitch’s form gradually took shape in the glow of the tiny flame. He cupped his hand around the match as it was held against a fresh wick and in the flickering light of the candle Toothiana almost swore his shadow looked like it was dancing.

“Where the hell am I?” She demanded when she saw Pitch’s attention turn to her. Pitch clicked his tongue and strode over rapidly enough to make her jump, unobstructed by the piles of obstacles that littered the floor. She was fairly sure she saw his legs pass straight through one of the remaining upright stacks of books.

“My lair. Now get off of my books.” He ordered, flapping his hands at her as she hastily crawled over to a bare patch on the floor, seeking it out by touch rather than sight.

“Why am I in your lair?” She asked impatiently, irritated when he seemed to brush her aside in favor of looking over the damage done to his books.

“I found you unconscious in a child’s bedroom at four o’clock in the morning.” He explained distractedly, picking away drips of wax with deft fingers. "I had thought you of all people should know not to spook a nightmare. Onyx was quite surprised when you found her under the bed." he added. That explained the dream she'd had, Toothiana supposed, but the information didn't comfort her in the slightest.

"So you brought me here?" She said, exasperated and just a bit alarmed. 

“I couldn’t find Sanderson, and you were well on your way to getting hypothermia, so yes. I did." He told her bluntly.

“Wait, is that _your_ bed?” She said, gesturing to the unmade four-poster bed she had woken up in, her eyes wide and her skin prickling.

“Well, technically yes. I wasn’t using it though.” He confirmed hesitantly, pausing as though just now realizing the implications and the breach of etiquette. “It was the only logical place I could put you. I could have left you on the floor to be discovered in the morning you know, or put you in a cage...” he trailed off thoughtfully.

“How long have I been asleep?” Toothiana asked suspiciously, hopefully taking his mind away from whatever he had been thinking of.

“Only about a day or so.” Pitch answered with a shrug.

“’A day or so’? What do you mean ‘or so’?” She questioned stiffly past the heart that had lodged itself in her throat, her feathers rising.

“You’ve only been asleep for a little over twenty four hours. It’s not that bad.” He elaborated offhandedly.

“Not that bad? _Not that bad_?! I’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours and you’re telling me it’s not that bad?!” She nearly screeched, her mind racing. The mini fairies must be in a panic trying to run things on their own. Baby Tooth would have been big help in that regard but she was inexperienced. Aside from the occasional holiday party, or the “ _incident_ ” during the New Year’s party, Toothiana _never_ left her palace for longer than twenty-four hours. How many teeth had they missed by now? Had they gone to the other Guardians for help? She didn’t even want to think about the work she would have to do in order to catch up.

“Goodness, I don’t see what the fuss is all about. Now if it had been a week, then I’d understand, but—“

“A week? Who the hell falls asleep for an entire week?” She interrupted, horrified. A week of sleep would have cost her hundreds of thousands of believers, abandoned teeth would have been scattered across the globe, the palace would have been in an utter pandemonium of decay, fairies fading away left and right, dropping like flies. She had to give herself several moments to calm herself from the sudden hell her mind had spiraled into.

“Well, not all of us are lucky enough to be swimming in belief like you _Guardians_. A good week of sleep can be just what you need to get back on your feet.” Pitch said with a note of sourness that made her wonder if he spoke from experience.

“Well, not all of us can afford to take a break whenever they please. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to work every night of the year?” She snipped back, her nerves unraveling with dread at the work she would face when she returned. She could already feel her hand cramping from all the apology notes she would have to write for the children her fairies had missed.

“Oh, right. Such a fragile belief you have. Miss a single tooth and it all goes away.” Pitch said dully. Her breath caught in her throat and she narrowed her eyes. He was right, of course, and it had been the frailty of the children’s belief in her that he had targeted during the Easter Battle in burgess. She was often the first Guardian to go, since many children lost their baby teeth before they stopped believing in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, even if her work persisted long into their adulthood with the recollection of memories from the childhood that she protected.

The only thing that stopped her from decking him right then and there was the fact that he had scarcely even looked at her when he had spoke. She was so used to seeing his predatory focus honed in on her (which was a frightening thought in itself, that she could be used to such a thing) that seeing him so disinterested was oddly reassuring, in the loosest definition of the word. He seemed more concerned with the state of the books than of the fact that he had practically kidnapped her, fussing and clucking over the drying drips of wax that had landed on the books’ covers.

“And you said _I_ was the mother hen.” Toothiana grumbled under her breath bitterly. Pitch frowned at her over the cover of the book he was tending to.

“Some of these books are older than you are, so excuse me for wanting to preserve them!” he huffed. Toothiana raised an eyebrow at the book in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure _The Hunger Games_ was published recently.” She told him evenly, nodding at the glossy title she could see peeking between his fingers. Pitch rolled his eyes, holding the book closer to his chest protectively as though to keep it from being damaged by her words as well as her actions.

“I said some of them were old, not all of them.” He sniffed, brushing away the remaining bits of wax.

The edges of his form seemed to fade into the background, his smooth robe blending into his surroundings like camouflage, and her head hurt just from looking at it as her mind tried to make sense of it.

Toothiana glanced around the room, eyeing the bizarre assortment of random scrap that had accumulated amongst the books. So this was what the Bogeyman’s bedroom was like. She had been expecting something a bit more… refined? She certainly hadn’t envisioned this. Pitch was quite the hoarder, it seemed. It almost reminded her of Jack’s collection of winter hats, scarves, and gloves that had been swept up by the wind. There was a dusty, moth-eaten teddy bear keeping watch from its post at the top of the bookshelf that looked so old that one touch could cause it to crumble, bits of fabric stuck out from the pages of a book about textiles that she was fairly sure hadn’t been made to include samples, an admittedly terrifying porcelain doll with a large crack running down her blushing cheek, a few stray bird cages tucked away out of sight, a pile of what looked like animal bones, some puzzle pieces that probably didn’t belong together but had been forced into place regardless, mismatching tea cups and saucers that together made a complete set, a gaudy cupid shaped Valentine’s Day card pinned to the wall—Toothiana wondered how many of these things had been missed by their owners over the centuries.

“Where did you get all of these things?” She asked.

“I found them.” Pitch answered almost petulantly. It was painfully obvious he had taken them, but the more she thought about it, the less it seemed like theft. If she had as much free time as he did, she might have started making pictures out of mismatching puzzle pieces too.

Toothiana fell silent, drearily watching Pitch worry over his books. He scrutinized each one intently before returning them to the steadily growing stack beside him, looking them over with an almost feverish kind of focus that made her tired just from watching it.

She looked away to examine herself, picking futilely at the shell of wax that had formed on her forearm over her feathers. Wax aside, she was clean and her feathers were neat, if a bit rumpled from sleeping for so long. They weren’t nearly as bad as they should have been, which confused her at first but she didn’t really want to think about why her tail looked freshly preened, or the fact that Pitch was using one of her quills as a placeholder in the book he was picking wax off of.

“I won’t say it’s been fun, but I do need to get back to my fairies now. They’re probably worried.” Toothiana ventured anxiously after a moment, her skin itching to feel the sun.

Pitch set down the book with an air of finality and stood up fluidly, making her flinch in surprise.

“Alright fine, let’s get you back to the annoying little pests before you give yourself a heart attack.” He agreed, brushing wax off of his robe. Toothiana straightened quickly and looked up as he held his hand out to her awkwardly.

“My way is faster. Unless you’d prefer to fly the whole way back.” Pitch explained.

“You mean the shadows?" She asked tentatively.

"It's even faster than North's cute little gizmos. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity so take it or leave it." Pitch warned. Toothiana hesitated as she reached for him before making the decision to put her hand in his. Pitch’s long fingers completely engulfed hers as he pulled her to her feet stiffly, his face unreadable. If she had blinked, she would have missed the flinch he made when her fingers curled around his.

The tightening of his hand was the only warning she ever got before she was dragged bodily into the shadows, the light of the candle disappearing as the floor under her toes melted away. The silence felt heavy on her ears, and her lungs felt empty as she was suspended helplessly in the darkness for the briefest moment before the hand that had wrapped around hers gave a firm tug. She fell into open air and bumped her nose sharply on a steady chest, the collision and the suddenly blinding light making her eyes stream with tears. She hadn’t even noticed how tightly she had been squeezing Pitch’s hand until he was prying his fingers free. She had to cling to Pitch’s arm for several more seconds until her brain caught up with her. When she could see straight she blinked in surprise at the familiar jungle they stood in. The Tooth Palace was directly above them.

“There you go. Don’t go looking under any more beds.” Pitch said, giving her a nudge with his foot as he shook out his fingers.

“That was hardly my fault. I was looking for a tooth—” Toothiana protested, her voice breaking. “Oh no…” She moaned in dismay, eyes closing in realization. “I never found the tooth…” She murmured. That poor child. She had been _right there_ and she hadn’t been able to collect the tooth. Toothiana slumped against the nearest tree with a sigh.

“Tooth? Oh, you mean this tooth. I almost forgot about it, it’s such a little thing after all.” Pitch remarked, to her confusion. He held up one hand and Toothiana stiffened as she saw the glimmer of white pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Is that…?”

“I found it under the bed.” Pitch told her coolly, narrowing his eyes at it uninterestedly. He made no move to hand it over and her stomach churned as her mind worked through all the ways he could take advantage of the situation by holding the tooth hostage.

“Pitch,” Toothiana began helplessly, “please give me the tooth.” She begged, feeling her heart clench when his hand closed around the tooth, his eyes cold. That predatory focus was back on her again and she bristled under it unconsciously.

“Alright, but you owe me a quarter.” He relented unexpectedly.

She gasped as he tossed the tooth at her, catching it in surprise. “Pardon?” She asked wearily with a frown.

“I wasted a quarter on that little brat, and seeing as it is _your_ job to exchange the teeth for coins it’s only fair that—“ Pitch hadn’t been expecting her to dart up to him, and he seemed even less prepared for when she wrapped her arms around his neck impulsively and gave him a quick peck on the cheek like she would with one of the Guardians. She retreated hastily, a strange mixture of relief and unease swelling in her chest despite the atrocious invasion of personal space Pitch seemed to be struggling to comprehend.

The look on his face was one she'd never seen on him before. His eyes were wide, jaw slack, and she watched blood rush to his cheeks as his disbelief slowly broke into confusion, and maybe even a hint of panic. Watching his composure crack was more satisfying than she had expected it to be.

“For collecting the tooth.” She explained with a blush of her own as she reached for her belt. He flinched when she flicked a quarter at him, catching it with one hand. “And that’s for ‘wasting a quarter’, as you put it.” She added, mimicking his voice with a scoff.

“Aren’t you still mad about—“ Pitch began suspiciously.

“Oh I’m still _very_ angry with you for what you did during your last little ‘visit’.” She interrupted, giving him a look that had him clamping his jaw shut. “I’ll get you back for that later, and I don't intend to let you off easy.” She promised, watching that curious blush spread across his face. She was going to enjoy milking an apology from him, and she smirked at the plan that began to form in her head.

Pitch chuckled nervously, stepping back towards the shadows. “I’d like to see you try.” He sneered, fading away. Toothiana rolled her eyes and fluttered up through the jungle canopy, wondering how she was going to explain why she had been gone for so long to the mini fairies.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically the same events from the last chapter as seen from Pitch's POV, since his interpretation of them was a little different than Toothiana's. Normally I'd post this on a Monday, but I've been pretty slow on updates lately thanks to my classes which should be over in about two weeks, so I figured I may as well be nice and post it now. I hope to find a proper pace to update this in the near future but we'll have to see how that goes. I apologize again for my slowness.

It had been around four o’clock in the morning when Onyx came running to Pitch, eyes wide with her tail between her legs and her ears laid flat. He knew that look. That was the look she gave him when she’d done something wrong.

Sighing dramatically, Pitch allowed her to lead him to whatever catastrophe she had caused this time. What _had_ she done this time, he wondered. At least she wasn’t full of mini fairies again. If he found out she had been trying to eat the mini fairies he would have been very cross with her.

He emerged into the bedroom just in time to see Onyx pawing at a lump of feathers on the ground, lipping at it nervously.

Pitch very nearly clawed his face in exasperation, groaning at Onyx’s anxious shuffling as she took hold of Toothiana’s tail and dragged her unconscious body to his feet shyly. This was so much worse than eating the mini fairies.

“What happened?” He demanded, fixing his nightmare with a particularly stern glare. Onyx ducked her head and snuffled guiltily. What did Onyx expect him to do about this? The best he could do was move Toothiana somewhere before the child woke up and discovered her, maybe dump a blanket or two on top of her as well, Pitch thought to himself as he prodded her cold cheek with a finger.

“She _scared_ you… Unbelievable.” Pitch interpreted, scowling at both the nightmare and Toothiana’s limp form at his feet. She was shivering in her sleep and he could feel the throes of the nightmare Onyx had pitched her into like a far off echo. “Why, prey tell, was she looking under the bed in the first place?” He inquired after reining in his annoyance enough to not snap at Onyx. 

Onyx crept back to the bed and stuck her head under it. After a moment of snuffing she retreated and spat a tooth into Pitch’s outstretched hand.

“Of course. I don’t suppose there’s a quarter under the pillow then?” There wasn’t, and Pitch rolled his eyes as he returned to his lair to snatch a coin from his desk for the little brat. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out.” He growled to Onyx as he shoved the quarter under the child’s pillow before routinely brushing his hand across the child’s forehead, infecting the boy’s sleep with a nightmare about every last one of his teeth falling out (a classic dream, and one he quite enjoyed to administer in the presence of the Tooth Fairy).

“Now, what to do with you…” Pitch drawled, nudging Toothiana’s twitching body with his foot. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t very well just leave her there to be discovered in the morning and let the belief of the Tooth Fairy to skyrocket in this town. He could drop her on one of the other Guardians. It would have been quite amusing to watch the look of utter bewilderment on their faces as Toothiana’s unconscious body flopped to the ground in front of them from out of nowhere.

North would have been his first choice, but after Pitch’s most recent visit to the Pole he wasn’t eager for another encounter with the Guardian of Wonder anytime soon. Bunnymund was also a solid ‘no’, considering the rabbit’s consistent animosity towards him (no reason to get the bunny riled up while he was still too weak to properly defend himself). Sandy would prove himself to be insufferable, regardless of the reaction, either by hurling Pitch into the side of a building or by tormenting him endlessly about a ‘crush’ that he didn’t have. Whatever the hell a ‘crush’ meant. Jack would have been the safest to approach, but it was only safe for Pitch in all honesty. In her current bedraggled state Toothiana wouldn’t have lasted a second against Jack’s powers and the two would be forced to deal with either unfreezing the Tooth Fairy or disposing of the body.

Toothiana was actually quite small, smaller than she looked at first glance. Her wings and tail certainly gave her a larger presence, but curled up into a ball with her wings folded she was smaller than Sanderson, although probably not quite as light. Pitch had spent a long time marveling this discovery while he carried her to his lair. He’d even deigned to walk instead of sweeping her through the shadows.

First thing was first; he needed to get Toothiana dry. She was hardly waterproof, and was about as warm as Jack was on a hot spring day which couldn’t have been good for Toothiana considering Jack could have still managed a decent flurry if he was provoked enough.

Pitch’s attempt at drying her was admittedly unrefined. He had heard birds usually air dried, and could only assume that Toothiana was the same but he couldn’t very well string her up on a clothesline and wait, so he patted her dry with a spare towel as best he could, at least until she wasn’t unreasonably damp.

It was cold in his lair, and Pitch realized with a flash of dismay that he had no idea where to put her. He hesitated near one of his cages indecisively. She would have fit nicely enough, curled into a ball as she was, and she didn’t seem inclined to stretch out either, but after a moment of careful deliberation he decided it was best that he didn’t attempt scare her to death. Not to mention iron wasn’t exactly the most comfortable surface to nap on. But where else could he put her without giving her a heart attack?

“Don’t give me that look.” Pitch snapped as Onyx cocked her head at him. He only had one bed (that could respectably be called such) in his lair, and since Toothiana was asleep it made sense to put her there. She was still cold and shivering, but he was sure she’d warm up under the blankets after a while if he tucked her in nice and snug.

It had been strange at first, wandering into his room looking for a book to read to find someone asleep in his bed. But the bed had plenty of space for both of them, even with Onyx stretched across his feet, so Pitch didn’t really mind sharing.

It wouldn’t do to encourage Onyx to prey on Guardians unless he wanted situations like the one he had just found himself in to be reoccurring, so he had let Toothiana keep her dreams to herself, despite the gnawing curiosity that urged him to take a quick peek at her nightmare. It certainly didn’t help that Onyx seemed determined to crush Toothiana in her attempts to lie down on the bed, and he might have made the bad dream worse inadvertently with his close proximity. His body was aching to move closer, to feel that invigorating terror sing against his skin, but while he certainly wasn't about to deny the bountiful meal Toothiana's fear made for him, he would behave himself. Look, but don't touch...

... Maybe just a little touching. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

 

She hadn’t been very dry when he’d put her down, and her feathers were an absolute mess he realized. It only seemed right that he sort them out a little, so he kept her under the blankets for the most part and got to work gently tugging and petting and smoothing her plumage until it looked just as lovely as it always did. Her tail needed the most attention, so he spent the majority of his time grooming it.

Toothiana began to snore in her sleep. It was more of a whistle really but it was, dare he say, a bit endearing. He certainly wasn’t used to hearing such a sound so deep into his lair. He took the snores as a sign that her nightmare had ended, and was partly relieved that she continued to sleep afterwards. She was must have been exhausted, but goodness her feathers were so soft even after the storm, he wasn't disappointed at all by the lack of fear he felt.

It had taken a longer time preening her tail than he expected, but by the end of it he had a decent handful of loose feathers that had been damaged by Toothiana’s flight through the storm and his fingers were tingling from the hours spent combing through her plumage. It would have been wasteful of him to simply throw the feathers away, and he’d been meaning to make a new set of quill pens anyway so he tucked them into one of his books for safekeeping.

After her feathers had been seen to, Pitch hadn’t really bothered to leave the room. He’d already sat down, he was fairly comfortable, there was a book nearby, and Onyx had decided to lie on top of his legs so he stayed to read the book for a little while until Onyx moved. He’d even lit a candle in case Toothiana woke up so it wouldn’t be too dark for her.

He was almost reluctant to leave her in order to meet with Sandy, and Sandy—damnable nuisance that he was—had already taken notice of Toothiana’s absence at the Tooth Palace. Personally, Pitch blamed the mini fairies and the Sandman’s own gossipy nature.

 

 

 _“Seen Tooth lately?”_ Sandy asked, straight to the point tonight, it seemed. Pitch was only surprised that Sandy had waited so long to ask. 

“She works every night of the year, it would be difficult not to.” Pitch replied evenly. Sandy didn’t seem very amused.

 _“The mini fairies haven’t seen her, and she hasn’t returned from her latest excursion.”_ Sandy told him coolly from atop the giant goldfish he rode. Pitch had objected strongly to the golden unicorn mount Sandy had originally arrived on. The goldfish wasn’t any better, but Pitch was too tired to argue about aesthetics by that point.

“How odd.” Pitch commented after a moment, barely suppressing a flinch when he turned away and found himself inches away from the big vacant eyes of Sandy’s goldfish ride. Sandy raised an eyebrow at him.

 _“It_ is _odd. Are you sure you haven’t seen her?”_ Sandy probed. He couldn’t have possibly known that she was in Pitch’s lair, but Pitch couldn’t help but notice how appropriate it was that the Sandman rode a goldfish while he was fishing for information. The only question Pitch had was whether he should lie or not.

“… I may have…” He began slowly, frowning at the goldfish’s gaping mouth and absurdly large eyes. Maybe the unicorn would have been better.

 _“Where was she? Don’t tell me you messed with her fairies again.”_ Sandy said, giving Pitch a disapproving frown.

“Onyx was the one who did that, and I got them out of her stomach afterwards didn’t I?”

_“I still think you should have apologized to the fairies for that.”_

Pitch scowled, adjusting his hold on Onyx’s reins as the nightmare galloped alongside Sandy’s mount.

“If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it.” Pitch snarled irritably, tugging Onyx’s reins to avoid the glowing streams of dreamsand that wove playfully beneath them.

 _“You didn’t have to apologize. But it would have been nice.”_ Sandy said with a shrug, sending a few more dreams down the street with an absent wave of his hand.

“I’m not nice. Especially not towards you Guardians.” Pitch growled, glaring at the houses that rushed under them. “Or has all this blackmailed camaraderie made you forget?” He hissed, crossing his arms.

 _“It was only a suggestion. You don’t want to be chased by fairies again, do you?”_ Sandy reminded him with a smirk. Pitch swatted at him with a snarl.

“Yes, yes, we mustn’t forget _that_ little incident, stars forbid you ever let me live it down. Why do I even bother telling you anything?” He grumbled in exasperation, turning away as Sandy drifted slowly back into his line of sight.

 _“It wouldn’t hurt to try. She won’t get angry for it.”_ Sandy insisted. Pitch knew Sandy wasn’t referring to the mini fairies at this point.

“Toothiana is entirely too keen to chase me with both swords drawn if I so much as look at one of her fairies wrong. And besides, if I did that I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun.” He sneered.

Sandy gave him a disappointed frown. “ _You’re not supposed to start fights_.”

“You know I don’t play well with others.” Pitch replied indifferently.

Sandy’s expression softened as he silently formed the shape of a baby shakily pushing itself to its feet to walk unsteadily.

_“Baby steps.”_

Pitch rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Don’t denigrate me, little man. I liked it better when you ignored me. Now you just drag me around and pretend to enjoy my presence. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you glance at each other and grin like being near me is the most painful thing you’ve ever done, because believe me when I say it hurts me more than it hurts you.” He scorned, steering Onyx towards the familiar grove of trees where the entrance to his lair had been made.

 _“Jack likes you.”_ Sandy pointed out gently.

“He’s just a boy. Childish. Naïve. Give it a few years.” Pitch grumbled dismissively as Onyx landed, slowly easing to a stop beside the incongruous tunnel in the center of the clearing. Sandy’s dreamsand unicorn dissipated as he reached the ground, its remnants scattering across the night sky in a swarm of golden butterflies.

_“He’s over three hundred years old-“_

“Practically a babe, I know.” Pitch interrupted, dismounting. Sandy shook his head slowly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

 _“That doesn’t change anything. He likes you, and once they get to know you the others will too.”_ Sandy gave Pitch a light pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t hold your breath.” Pitch grunted, running his hands over Onyx’s neck. Sandy grinned.

_“Baby steps, Pitch. Baby steps.”_

Pitch hummed absently in reply, following Onyx into his lair as the sky began to lighten.

“Bloody optimist…” He muttered under his breath as Onyx trotted ahead to check on his ‘guest’ no doubt.

Barely a minute later Onyx ran back to him sheepishly after having been cowed from the room, and Pitch could tell that his guest had awakened.

He had felt Toothiana’s fear before he reached her, which was fine. Part of him felt disappointed that she had woken up already, but she was a Guardian and so was practically swimming in power. He knew better than to expect something as trifling as sleep deprivation, exhaustion, and minor hypothermia to put her down for very long.

Mentally preparing himself for an attack, Pitch approached the door to his bedroom. He saw Toothiana long before she saw him despite the candle she held in her hand. He saw the exact moment her eyes fell on his face and he flinched at her earsplitting shriek as the candle abruptly went out.

“Easy, Toothiana! It’s just me.” Pitch yelped, raising his hands protectively. Nothing was thrown at him, but he saw the way her hand tightened around the dagger on her belt with a twinge of dismay.

“ _Pitch?!_ ” She exclaimed uncertainly, her eyes passing right over him as they swept across the room.

“Yes. Who else did you think—don’t knock over the books!” His warning came too late and Pitch watched helplessly as a stack of his precious novels crashed to the ground under Toothiana’s slight weight. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, massaging his temples to sooth the sudden headache that pounded into existence between his ears. “I _told_ you not to do that…” He sighed. She was so much nicer when she had been asleep. He was beginning to regret not putting her in one of his cages.

“How exactly did you expect me to see them?” Toothiana groaned, and Pitch felt his face heat up at the sudden realization that she _couldn’t see_. Of course she couldn’t see. It was too dark for anyone other than him. He often forgot this while he was in his lair, what with Sanderson being able to provide his own illumination, and he didn’t often hear Jack complain. He swallowed a growl and swept past her to the nightstand, pulling open one of the drawers to find a fresh candle. At least some of the anger had left her voice, Pitch noted with a hint of relief that quickly turned to irritation as he heard the sound of another stack of books being disturbed.

“Give me that. You’re getting wax all over the place.” He spat, snatching the still melted candle out of Toothiana’s hand. How on earth had she managed to spill that much wax in such a short time?!

Pitch struck a match, electing to ignore the sudden bursts of terror that Toothiana emitted with each passing second of prolonged darkness in favor of getting that damnable wick to catch the flame.

“Where the hell am I?” She sounded upset, not that Pitch could blame her.

“My lair. Now get off of my books.” He answered, gesturing for her to move anxiously. There was wax spattered over nearly all of them, he realized with a flash of dismay. He never would have expected Toothiana to be capable of causing such a mess.

“Why am I in your lair?” She pressed, settling into a relatively unoccupied nook among the towering stacks of literature that cluttered the floor. Pitch hesitated for a beat or two, idling with one wax speckled book cover as he fought for words.

“I found you unconscious in a child’s bedroom at four o’clock in the morning.” The complete truth. “I had thought you of all people should know not to spook a nightmare. Onyx was quite surprised when you found her under the bed.” He added, also completely truthfully. Onyx had been spooked, there was no reason for her to blame _him_ for the unexpected events.

“So you brought me here?” She asked, the persistent panic in her tiny body spiking.

“I couldn’t find Sanderson, and you were well on your way to getting hypothermia, so yes. I did.” Pitch said stiffly, staring hard at the cover of the book he was tending to. That was a lie. He probably could have found Sandy if he had bothered to look, but he hadn’t felt eager to get thrown the length of a city block for giving Toothiana a nightmare. She had been in danger of hypothermia though, so it wasn’t a complete lie.

“Wait, is that _your_ bed?” An abrupt spike of fear accompanied the question and Pitch hesitated to respond.

“Well, technically yes.” Pitch managed, his thoughts racing into all the fiendish corners of his mind. “I wasn’t using it though.” Another lie, but she didn’t need to know that. He hadn’t been using the bed after all. Not for sleep at any rate. Still, he kept his eyes carefully glued to the book in his hands and steadfastly ignored the scrutinizing glare he was no doubt being given. In hindsight he could have snuck her back into the Tooth Palace and left her for the fairies to find (it wasn’t as though he hadn’t proven himself capable of the feat), but he sorely hoped that she wouldn’t come to the same conclusion.

“It was the only logical place I could put you. I could have left you on the floor to be discovered in the morning you know, or put you in a cage...” he went on, fumbling for an appropriate explanation.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, and Pitch barely caught his sigh of relief at the change of subject.

“Only about a day or so.” He answered easily, shrugging. Finally, a complete truth, and one that he had no trouble with revealing.

“’A day or so’? What do you mean ‘or so’?” Toothiana’s voice was strained and Pitch felt himself tense in response.

“You’ve only been asleep for a little over twenty four hours. It’s not that bad.” He elaborated quickly before she released the rage and panic he knew was building under the surface of her controlled exterior. He had tried to sound reassuring, but Toothiana’s composure wasn’t as well controlled as it appeared.

“Not that bad? _Not that bad?!_ I’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours and you’re telling me it’s not that bad?!” Toothiana screeched, and Pitch cringed at the volume of her voice. She had been so much nicer when she had been asleep…

“Goodness, I don’t see what the fuss is all about. Now if it had been a week, then I’d understand, but—“

“A week? Who the hell falls asleep for an entire week?”

Pitch swallowed his irritated retort at having been interrupted in favor of addressing the new kind of panic that was rising in Toothiana’s feathery little body. Her feathery little body that practically sang with energy at every waking moment, fueled by constant surges of belief. A body with energy like that practically negated the need for resting or, at the very least, didn’t need very much rest in order to work so continuously.

“Well, not all of us are lucky enough to be swimming in belief like you _Guardians_. A good week of sleep can be just what you need to get back on your feet.” He spat, letting just a little bitterness to slip out with his words. He could hardly remember a time when he didn’t feel drained since his fall after the dark ages. It was an acquired feeling, and one that he learned to grow accustomed to. He made up for the long periods of activity with long periods of sleep just to keep himself from collapsing. To Toothiana the concept must have seemed horribly alien and bizarre.

“Well, not all of us can afford to take a break whenever they please. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to work every night of the year?” Toothiana snipped back. Pitch had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from firing back about how much he would prefer the workload over meandering aimlessly for days on end with nothing to do.

“Oh, right. Such a fragile belief you have. Miss a single tooth and it all goes away.” He replied instead, fully expecting some sort of retaliation from the Tooth Fairy, whose fear had all but vanished under the antagonism of their discussion, as usual. He didn’t look up from the books, even as Toothiana’s continued silence began to worry at his nerves until it took all of his concentration just to keep his hands busy with the wax on the covers.

“And you said _I_ was a mother hen.” He heard her grumble, and he found it in himself to tear his gaze away from his hands to glare at her over the book. So she was still sour about that little comment he’d made. How many weeks ago had that been? The Guardian of Memory title wasn’t just for show it seemed.

“Some of these books are older than you are, so excuse me for wanting to preserve them!” he huffed back.

“I’m pretty sure _The Hunger Games_ was published recently.” Came her level reply. Pitch wanted to cringe, but instead he rolled his eyes and put on a blank expression.

“I said some of them were old, not all of them.” He sniffed, brushing away the tiny flecks of wax that remained on the cover after his incessant picking.

Toothiana was quiet for a good long while after that, but Pitch didn’t have the stomach to look at her. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had made him uncomfortable in his own home—his own bedroom! He could hear her feathers sighing against one another with each miniscule move that she made.

“Where did you get all of these things?” She said unexpectedly, and Pitch paused in his inspection of the newest book to glance up questioningly. Things? What things? What was she—

Oh…

The room was a bit of a mess wasn’t it? Come to think of it, when was the last time he had bothered to straighten things up a little bit? A decade—two decades ago? He frowned deeply, recalling the simple, borderline militaristic organization of Toothiana’s bedroom compared to his ramshackle arrangement of miscellaneous rubbish that for one reason or another he never had the resolve to part with. The emotion that bubbled up in his throat made his face burn and it was an ugly feeling. He would have very much liked for her to leave now.

“I found them.” He said at last, averting his gaze from the useless clutter that he had amassed, thankful that Toothiana hadn’t wandered any further than the bedroom door and seen the veritable scrapyard of things that littered some of the other caverns nearby (he couldn’t very well keep countless centuries worth of belongings crammed into one small bedroom after all).

Toothiana fell silent again and Pitch focused on each droplet of wax with more intensity than ever, eventually picking clean each and every millimeter of the books and he continued to turn them over in his hands in the futile possibility that he might have missed something.

“I wont say it’s been fun, but I do need to get back to my fairies now. They’re probably worried.” Toothiana’s anxiety was back to a low thrum and Pitch was painfully aware of how quickly he agreed with her, setting down the book and getting to his feet in one smooth movement that had Toothiana flinching.

“Alright fine, let’s get you back to the annoying little pests before you give yourself a heart attack.” He held out his hand without thinking and froze at the incredulous look that Toothiana gave him.

“My way is faster. Unless you’d prefer to fly the whole way back.” He explained, his mind casting about for an excuse.

“You mean the shadows?”

“It’s even faster than North’s cute little gizmos. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity so take it or leave it.” Pitch said bluntly.

Anxiety was coming off of Toothiana like a fine mist, so Pitch was almost startled when her hand reached for his. He curled his fingers instinctively, and he nearly gaped at how small her hand was. He was sorely tempted to release her simply to measure the spread of her fingers against his. These were the same hands he’d seen wielding scimitars, curled into fists, flexed like a set of talons, and this was the closest he’d ever come to them without getting hurt for it. Toothiana’s fingers curled around his and he flinched as he felt the familiar strength that lurked beneath her deceptively soft skin.

He tightened his grip tentatively and hauled her backwards into the shadows, narrowly managing to adjust his strength before he overcompensated and threw her like a ragdoll (it was almost frightening how easily it could have been done, she weighed hardly anything at all).

Pitch himself moved through the shadows so easily that the action felt as natural as walking through an open doorway, but he had gone through the shadows with a passenger on perhaps a handful of occasions if he had ever bothered to count them, Jack being among of the lucky few to live to tell the tale. Weight meant very little as he traveled through the dark. To him Toothiana was little more than a feathery balloon being pulled on a string.

When he stepped out of the shadow of a tree onto the humid forest floor of the jungle beneath the Tooth Palace he pulled Toothiana out along with him. She ran face first into his chest and promptly stuck to him like a burr as he tried in vain to free his hand from her alarmingly strong grip.

“There you go. Don’t go looking under any more beds.” Pitch advised, nudging her leg with his foot as he shook out his sore fingers. He had expected her to take off like a dove from a magician’s sleeve, ruffled and unhappy but eager to be free. He was sorely disappointed when that wasn’t the case.

“That was hardly my fault. I was looking for a tooth—“ Pitch could actually see the exact moment that her spirit crumbled, every single feather on her body drooping making her appear to shrink an inch or two in size, her wings wilting in dismay. “Oh no…” From the way she acted Pitch would have thought someone had died or, at the very least, been seriously injured. “I never found the tooth…” she murmured, falling back against a nearby tree, the picture of overreaction in his opinion. It was just one little tooth. Speak of which, hadn’t he found a milk tooth somewhere?

“Tooth?” Pitch allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sight of Toothiana’s dejection a little while longer before reaching into his pocket to fish out the tooth Onyx had given him when he’d found Toothiana. “Oh, you mean this tooth. I almost forgot about it, it’s such a little thing after all.” He drawled, holding up to tooth for her to see. In truth he almost _had_ forgotten about it when he’d put it in his pocket. He probably would have found it again later and added it to some pile of little bits in his lair eventually.

“Is that…?” Toothiana breathed, and goodness was that _hope_ he saw lighting up her eyes? 

“I found it under the bed.” He explained, narrowing his eyes at the tooth. It really was such a tiny little thing. Then again, children put significance in the strangest of things so he couldn’t bring himself to be too surprised by how powerful their belief could be, especially with a Guardian standing right in front of him. He could feel a flicker of unease come to life in Toothiana as he continued to examine the tooth uninterestedly.

“Pitch, please give me the tooth.” Her voice was weak with uncertainty, her eyes shimmering as her face filled with an appropriate amount of dread considering the situation. Pitch could bask in that feeling all day if she would let him. He turned his gaze on her and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as her feathers rose slowly like the hackles on a dog. It would be only a matter of time before she decided to lash out.

“Alright, but you owe me a quarter.” He said, tossing the tooth to her casually. He had hoped for her to drop it, but she caught the tiny milk tooth with ease despite her obvious surprise. Her face was so expressive.

“Pardon?”

Pitch flashed a suitable amount of teeth as he replied, ready to spark a quick tiff with her before he left. “I wasted a quarter on that little brat, and seeing as it is _your_ job to exchange the teeth for coins it’s only fair that—“

Toothiana moved in a blur. He remembered her eyes widening in realization, and her entire face seemed to light up as her mind moved incomprehensibly fast towards a decision. Her body seemed to move even faster. She lunged at him from the ground, taking flight in order to reach his face. Pitch was tensing for an attack when he registered something soft touch his cheek.

Did she just…?

Toothiana had kissed him.

She’d _kissed_ him.

Why on earth—

“For collecting the tooth.” Toothiana told him, the explanation doing very little to alleviate his confusion. There was a musical _ping_ and Pitch flinched as something metallic flashed between them—a quarter. “And that’s for ‘wasting a quarter’, as you put it.” She added with a smirk, sounding exaggeratingly haughty for a brief moment. Pitch realized only later that she had been mocking him, too preoccupied with the fact that he never remembered the Tooth Palace to be _this_ warm.

Pitch worked his tongue into forming coherent speech, slow to respond. He didn’t understand. What was she trying to do? “Aren’t you still mad about—“

“Oh I’m still _very_ angry with you for what you did during your last little ‘visit’.” Toothiana assured him. “I’ll get you back for that later, and I don’t intend to let you off easy.” She added with a surprisingly dark, almost hungry expression flitting across her face. He didn’t like the look of that smirk on her lips, but the fact that she was planning to punish him for his transgression was almost comforting compared to the unfamiliar rush of warmth that had accompanied her kiss.

Pitch retreated deeper into the safety of the shadows with a forced chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.” He sneered at her before fading away into the dark.

He returned to his lair with a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as he felt the shadows surround him comfortably. Onyx looked up from where she lounged across the foot of the bed at his arrival but made no move to get off of the bed.

The sheets were still a mess, and Pitch imagined he could still see where the covers molded themselves to Toothiana’s body before she had left.

She hadn’t forgiven him for giving her sleep paralysis, but she’d also _kissed him_. Pitch touched his cheek as something akin to panic swelled in his chest. She was planning something. She had to be. Unless she kissed everyone like that. He thought he might have seen her give the other Guardians a peck or two, but it wasn’t as though he saw enough of them to be sure. No reason to get worked up. He wasn’t getting worked up. He was perfectly fine.

He flopped down onto the sheets without a second thought, sighing into the pillows with relief that he could finally relax in his bedroom alone.

The bed still smelled like her.

Pitch tucked one of the pillows under his nose and inhaled deeply. It was a soft musky scent that reminded him of sweet flowers and growing things with a faint hint of rain.

The mattress dipped and the bedframe groaned as Onyx shifted and flopped alongside Pitch with a chuff, nearly crushing him under her bulk. He growled and gave her a shove, bundling the bedding against his chest possessively.

After a moment of snuffling, Onyx gave up on stealing the blankets and Pitch uncurled his fingers to stare at the shiny new quarter gleaming in his palm that he'd been given to replace the one he’d left with the child.

The coin would look lovely among his collection of trinkets.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than my previous ones and boy was it fun to write. Tooth gets revenge and Pitch gets a long overdue dental checkup. If anyone despises trips to the dentist, consider this your warning (it's not graphic, but getting your teeth cleaned kind of sucks).

Toothiana had been working for hours, a piece of fruit in one hand, an ink quill in the other as she scribbled away note after note on a clipboard held out to her by a small flock of fairies, all the while listing the locations of lost teeth to be collected.

There were less apology notes to be written than she had expected—Baby Tooth had done an admirable job running the tooth collections during Toothiana’s sudden absence—she only hoped they’d be enough to restore at least some belief in the hearts of the children they had missed. It was always disheartening when a child lost their belief before their last milk tooth fell out, not to mention how difficult it was to find the rest of them when they no longer put the teeth under their pillows.

Baby Tooth trilled in her ear testily for the tenth time since Toothiana had returned, impatiently demanding answers for why she had been gone for so long.

“I already told you, I got tired so I stopped for a quick nap.” Toothiana told Baby Tooth yet again as she signed off the last apology letter with a halfhearted flourish. Baby Tooth fixed her with a disbelieving stare and crossed her arms the moment Toothiana looked away.

 _“For an entire day?”_ Baby Tooth asked with a frown.

“Okay, maybe not a _quick_ nap, but flying through that storm was dreadful.” Toothiana corrected sheepishly, the piece of fruit in her hand forgotten in face of Baby Tooth’s dubious expression. “It’s the truth!” Toothiana insisted. The doubtful stare did not subside, much to Toothiana’s dismay.

 _“Where did you go? We looked everywhere for you, sent out search parties, we even asked Sandy for help!”_ Baby Tooth exclaimed with a piercing squeak. Toothiana gave a start of surprise.

“You told Sandy I was missing?” Toothiana echoed apprehensively. Had Sandy been looking for her as well? Was he still looking for her? Did anyone think to look in Pitch’s lair? She hoped not. Although as dubious as Pitch’s actions had been, Toothiana never would have imagined him helping _anyone,_ let alone her.

Pitch could have just dumped her somewhere warm, not that she would have even expected that much. She would have expected waking up in a cage after being tortured by vicious unforgivable nightmares that left her frightened and sobbing. Not only had he put her somewhere warm, he’d let her sleep in his _bed_ —as much as the thought disturbed her—and he’d also no doubt dried her as well since she highly doubted he would let her anywhere near his bed or his books while she had been dripping wet—also rather disturbing to think about considering it involved him touching her while she slept. Toothiana preferred not to think about what he had done while she had been asleep, especially when she discovered how little preening it took to get her feathers back in order after she had left his lair. There was no way she would have woken up with such tidy feathers after the storm she’d flown through without a little upkeep, she was just having trouble believing Pitch had been the one to do it. She wasn’t even going to bother with asking why.

 _“We couldn’t find you and teeth were getting left behind! If you had been missing any longer we would have gone to North!”_ Baby Tooth lectured, making Toothiana cringe at how close she had come to causing an unnecessary Guardian meeting. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how to explain why she had been in Pitch’s lair.

“I won’t let it happen again. I was just a little tired is all.” Toothiana promised earnestly, wondering why she was being lectured by one of her own fairies.

 _“You’ve been tired all week. Maybe it’s time you asked Sandy for help? He’d probably give you some dreamsand if you asked.”_ One of the passing mini fairies suggested as Toothiana sent out locations for the next flock. Toothiana opened her mouth to decline when an idea struck her.

“That’d probably be for the best. We have been pretty busy as of late.” She agreed, feigning weariness to hide the smirk that she could feel tugging at her lips. Pitch wouldn’t know what hit him. “It’d be good to show him that I’m alright, he’s probably still looking for me.” She said as an afterthought, mentally planning to set a time aside for her to visit him.

Sandy ended up hearing from one of the mini fairies that Toothiana had been found and he dropped by the palace as he passed over Asia during his usual trip around the globe following the sunset. He was dramatically shocked to learn of Toothiana’s “sleeping problem”, and was more than happy to spare a bottle or two of dreamsand. It was no trouble. No trouble at all. He even offered to make a few personal visits every week or so just in case, which Toothiana respectfully declined—Sandy worked just as much as she did after all.

Their talk had granted Toothiana a generous five bottles of dreamsand, which was more than enough for what she had planned. She locked them away in her cabinet, the only place in her room that she was sure Pitch hadn’t been able to get into thanks to the enchantments that had been placed on the lock (a Christmas gift from North many centuries ago). She quickly added a spare snow globe to her arsenal (also a Christmas gift from North), and managed another flight from the Tooth Palace to prepare a game plan.

Her talk with Jack had been off-putting to say the least. He hadn’t so much as blinked when asked how to sneak up on the Bogeyman, but his response had been less than what she had hoped for.

“You don’t.” he had answered, looking into her eyes with a surprisingly serious expression. “Either Pitch knows you’re there, or you’re Sandy. I don’t know why you’re asking, but I’m sure I’ll hear about it later. Good luck and don’t get caught.” Were his parting words of wisdom, complete with a complimentary snowflake to the nose and a playful smile.

The most difficult part was actually finding Pitch. It wouldn’t do for her to seek him out in his own home, so going into his lair was out of the question, but a helpful tip from Jack promised that where Onyx was, Pitch often wasn’t far behind (if he wasn’t nearby, then Onyx was no doubt getting into trouble and should be stopped immediately). Toothiana wasn’t eager to face down the Nightmare again, but needs must and she was sure the results would be well worth the trouble.

Toothiana found Onyx in Burgess nipping at streams of dreamsand on the outskirts of another rainstorm that was beginning to brew. The nightmare lifted her head at Toothiana’s approach and watched with her ears laid back from the roof of the house where she had been jumping at the dreams drifting into the windows.

“Hey there…” Toothiana began awkwardly, landing a respectable distance away in case her proximity caused Onyx to bolt. She doubted Onyx was allowed to touch Sandy’s streams of dreamsand. “Where’s Pitch?” She asked after a moment, glancing around wearily. Onyx scuffed the rooftop and snuffed at the ground looking almost guilty. Toothiana took the nightmare’s sudden shyness as a sign that Pitch was not nearby, which made the next part of her plan much easier.

Slowly, Toothiana reached into her satchel and withdrew one of the two bottles of dreamsand, watching Onyx’s ears perk immediately at the sight of it. Jack really was a wellspring of useful information. A pinch of dreamsand and Onyx was putty in your hands, he’d said. She wasn’t sure what an entire bottle’s worth could get her, but she was sure it would be more than a simple trick or two.

“You want this?” She had Onyx’s full attention, and the nightmare took a small step towards her with her eyes glued to the bottle. Toothiana swallowed her apprehension and hoped that Onyx was smarter than she looked. “I’ll give you this whole bottle, but first you need to do something for me.” Toothiana continued in a stern voice that stopped Onyx in her tracks, surprisingly enough. “I need you to bring me to Pitch, sneakily if you can.”

Onyx chuffed vigorously and stomped one hoof with a strong clop before striding forward determinedly. Toothiana put the bottle into her bag quickly at the first of Onyx’s investigative sniffs.

“No, not until you’ve brought me to Pitch.” Toothiana said sharply, trying her hardest to put a brave face forward. “Nod if you understand.” Onyx bobbed her head violently, much to Toothiana’s tentative relief. Onyx paused for a moment pensively before lunging forward, decision made, and swallowed Toothiana whole.

After the initial shock of watching an equine jaw unhinge and stretch impossibly wide before being plunged into near complete darkness, Toothiana realized that she was currently curled in Onyx’s midsection. Fortunately lacking the usual horse anatomy, there was plenty of room for Toothiana to crawl around in and there were areas in Onyx’s body where the sand was thin enough that she could dimly view their surroundings as Onyx galloped past.

Toothiana bit back a curse and elbowed futilely against the inside of Onyx’s ribcage as she was jostled and bumped unpleasantly.

She could only assume this is what Onyx thought she had meant by “Take me to Pitch”. Needless to say, it was not at all what Toothiana had pictured. Either that, or Onyx really hadn’t understood and was going to throw her around until she got the dreamsand. Toothiana resolved to wait ten minutes until she would cut her way free. She wasn’t in any danger of being hurt (unless she counted bruises), and if Onyx really was bringing her to Pitch it was all the better.

Onyx dove down the entrance to Pitch’s lair with startling speed, and Toothiana took it as her cue to ready one of the bottles of dreamsand.

They found Pitch swinging in one of his cages with a book in one hand, twirling one of Toothiana’s feathers in the other. Onyx brayed in greeting as she approached her master, hooves clattering on the edge of the cage.

“What is it, Onyx? Did you make a mess of Sanderson’s dreams again? Don’t tell me you ate a child.” She heard Pitch say, alarmingly close. “What on Earth am I going to do with you?” He sighed exasperatingly. Toothiana uncorked the bottle and shuffled into a crouching position so she could be ready for when Onyx inevitably spit her out. Onyx’s insides shifted and heaved, and Toothiana squeaked when she was practically thrown up and out of the nightmare’s throat. She flung the contents of the bottle blindly in front of her, hearing a gasp of surprise as Pitch received a face full of dreamsand.

“Oof!” Toothiana had scarcely gotten out of Onyx’s mouth before she was abruptly pinned to the bottom of the cage by a heavy weight that crushed the air from her lungs. She pushed herself up and felt some of the weight slide off of her. “Oh fantastic.” She wheezed in exasperation as the cloud of dreamsand cleared.

Pitch was sprawled across her back, fast asleep with a flock of golden butterflies swarming the top of his head. Toothiana huffed as she dragged herself out from under his body only to scramble to catch the back of his robe when he started to slip from the cage headfirst. It took a bit of effort to keep Pitch from sliding into the abyss below the hanging cages but eventually Toothiana wrestled him into a slumped seated position against the inside of the cage. Onyx was less than helpful with her attempts to steal Toothiana’s bag.

“Fine, here you go. You’ve earned it I guess.” Toothiana relented, uncorking a fresh bottle of dreamsand. Onyx seized the bottle by the opening and tipped it back, and Toothiana watched as golden sand spilled down the nightmare’s throat, slowly turning black. The empty bottle fell into the dark, a far off shattering sound signaling it’s collision with the unseen ground as Onyx took one long look at her master and started sniffing at the butterflies over his head. Toothiana was quick to shoo the mare away.

“I’m just going to borrow Pitch for a bit. Don’t get into trouble while he’s gone.” Toothiana told Onyx as the nightmare cantered into the dark grumpily. Onyx didn’t seem to care in the slightest that her master was being kidnapped.

Toothiana glanced at the book lying open inside the cage and after a moment of hesitation returned the feather between the pages and shut it carefully. She raised an eyebrow at the cover but if Pitch was going to read a corny romance novel that was his business. She wasn’t one to talk either, considering her private library contained more than a few eyebrow-raising titles.

Pitch was far too heavy to fly with, Toothiana quickly learned as her first attempts to haul him ended in a hasty struggle to get him back into the cage. She ended up tossing the snow globe below them and gingerly rolled Pitch off the edge of the cage, keeping a firm grip on his robe to control their decent (it was more of a glorified fall really) through the portal.

Pitch stirred slightly when she got him into her room and he shifted in his sleep as she went to cover the window, but he didn’t look like he would be waking up anytime soon, which was understandable considering she had dumped an entire bottle of dreamsand on him.

Toothiana wasn’t too confident in her ability to get Pitch off of the floor, he was so lanky that any attempt to carry him resulted in a hopeless tangle of limbs, and during her third effort Pitch very nearly caught her with his arms in a death grip. The best she could do was drag him onto a makeshift pile of cushions taken from her bed and hope they were comfortable.

Pitch had paralyzed her while she slept, so she thought it was only fair that she do the same to him. If she were honest though he was getting off easy since she didn’t have any way to actually immobilize him like he had done to her. Her best bet was to use restraints.

He had curled into the fetal position while she fetched the lead handcuffs from the cabinet and offered only the slightest resistance as she pulled his hands behind his back and secured them. She tied his ankles loosely with a length of rope, hoping that it would be enough to discourage him from kicking, and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Undignified attempts to move him aside, Toothiana felt rather proud of herself. She’d successfully captured the Bogeyman. It was a little exciting. She wondered if anyone had ever attempted something so bold with Pitch before. He definitely wouldn’t be happy when he woke up, but if he hadn’t wanted retribution he shouldn’t have sat on her lap and threatened her with a knife.

Pitch rolled over with a mutter, the butterflies over his head blurring indistinctly, and Toothiana crept closer, pausing at the edge of the pillows as Pitch settled into a more comfortable position.

It was a bit surreal, watching Pitch sleep.

Toothiana had caught Jack napping in everything from tree boughs to rooftops, she’d seen Bunny catching z’s in the Warren after a long Easter, she’d walked in on North passed out from a hard day’s work, and Sandy spent as much time sleeping as he did awake, but she’d never so much as thought about Pitch.

He had a bed, so it stood to reason that he slept in it, and she was fairly sure he had slept after North’s New Year’s party… at least she hoped he had. He’d been awake when she woke up, but that didn’t mean he’d spent the entire night watching her, right? He would have been exhausted after…

Well, the point was that everyone slept at some point, but watching Pitch sleep was far more remarkable when she realized he would probably never let anyone see him sleeping on a tree branch or in a patch of grass or at a desk. Toothiana crouched near his head and stared hard at the uncharacteristically relaxed expression on his face. He normally looked so tense, even in his smiles, which were always given with a hint of malice, had an air of rigidity to them. It was strange seeing him look so calm.

She prodded his nose and smiled when he twitched at her touch, face scrunching with discomfort. He sank his face into the cushions, letting out a muffled grumble of complaint, much to Toothiana’s amusement. He was so much nicer when he was asleep. No prickly attitude, no provocative insults, no suggestive grins or piercing stares. He looked so peaceful…

On impulse, Toothiana pushed up his top lip and took a look at his front teeth. Their off-white color wasn’t on par with Jack’s beautiful smile, and they were jagged and uneven, but Toothiana was pleasantly surprised to see no obvious signs of decay. The maxillary central incisors were asymmetrical, and the cuspids were a bit too sharp for comfort, but sharpness seemed to be the norm for Pitch. Pulling down his lower lip, she found that the same could be said for his bottom teeth: off-white color, jagged and uneven, unusually sharp, but relatively healthy.

Toothiana pried his jaw open expertly and after a moment of squinting realized it was too dark in his mouth for her to see properly. She stood and fetched a case of dental equipment from her cabinet (one of North’s more recent Christmas presents, and a particular favorite of hers as well). She hardly ever had the opportunity to use her tools.

Toothiana opened Pitch’s mouth again and resumed her examination. She’d been waiting _ages_ for an excuse to use her new dental mirror, which had a small but powerful LED light built right into the handle.

Pitch’s molars had the same off-white coloring as the rest of his teeth, and were just as jagged too. Toothiana winced in sympathy for all of the times he must have bitten down on his tongue or the inside of his cheek.

His wisdom teeth were grown in, unsurprisingly considering Pitch’s age, and aside from being rather sharp, she saw no issues with the top or bottom pairs and no overcrowding. She bit back a laugh as she imagined his response to having the teeth extracted. Toothiana could only imagine the hell he would bring to everyone within a ten-mile radius. 

Pitch was missing his left mandibular second molar, she observed with a puzzled frown. She paused however as the sudden memory of a certain right hook came to mind. She had broken that tooth off herself. Pitch had deserved it though, for trying to kill her, kidnapping her fairies, putting countless children into therapy with his nightmares, he was lucky she’d only gotten one tooth out of him.

She’d kept the tooth as well of course. It was in its very own box in a vault where she kept the more unique teeth. She had put it right beside another special tooth, a milk tooth belonging to a forever incomplete set, the only one to be collected as a matter of fact. Its owner was long gone but, thanks to her efforts, not forgotten. It had only seemed right that she put the two teeth near one another.

Toothiana pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind with a sigh in favor of taking a closer look at the area where the tooth had been. He grunted softly, squirming as she manhandled his head into a better position for her to see the gum line. The tooth she had collected was incomplete, she remembered, as parts of the roots had been missing and were most likely still in Pitch’s jaw. Fortunately there were no signs of an infection and the gums had healed completely, so she saw no reason to worry about the residual roots. The loss of the tooth seemed to have caused some movement to the surrounding teeth, but she highly doubted Pitch cared about having a perfect smile. All in all, his teeth looked fi—wait was that a cavity?

Pitch woke with a startled squawk and sat up fast, his forehead colliding against Toothiana’s with a ringing crack. Toothiana fell backwards with a squeak and tumbled over his legs and onto the floor where she sat clutching her forehead. She heard Pitch growl lowly, soft at first but slowly rising in volume.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?!” He yelped, confused and disoriented from the rude awakening. He took one dazed look at the dental tools and seemed to swell with fury. “Were… Were you cleaning my teeth while I was sleeping?!” He demanded in outrage before she could respond. He pushed himself up against the wall with his legs folded against his chest, looking wide-eyed and angry. Toothiana sat up with a huff, smoothing back her feathers.

“I was just looking.” She said, casting around for her dental mirror. She spotted it sitting in the cushions by Pitch’s foot and scowled. Until Pitch calmed down there was no chance of her retrieving it without getting kicked, and her skull was still throbbing from Pitch’s head-butt.

“Just looking?” He repeated after a moment, dumbfounded. “If you were, as you said, ‘just looking’ why, pray tell, did I wake up to find you sitting on my chest like an aspirant succubus with your hand down my throat?” he asked harshly, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

Toothiana blushed furiously, her feathers bristling at his less than appropriate choice of words. “That was not what I was doing, and my hand was nowhere near the back of your throat.” she corrected rigidly, trying to calm the flush spreading across her cheeks.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you violated my mouth with your dirty little fingers!” He spat viciously, wrinkling his nose in disgust as though he tasted something nasty.

“Oh like you’re one to talk, sneaking into my bedroom to paralyze me before threatening me with a knife!” Toothiana fired back.

Pitch stiffened in surprise, his lips thinning as he shut his mouth quickly. Toothiana crossed her arms with a huff and glowered at him furiously. “And my fingers are _not_ dirty. I liked you better when you were unconscious…” She muttered bitterly after a moment of tense glaring.

“At least I don’t snore like a hummingbird.” Pitch griped under his breath, making her glare return in full force.

“What was that?” she asked, a warning clear in her tone.

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering why all your hobbies include shoving your hands in people’s mouths. Rather cute of you to play dentist.” He commented maliciously. Toothiana stood and stalked up to him, stooping to snatch up her dental mirror as she approached. She brandished the mirror at him threateningly, the LED light in the handle making him cringe and flinch as it flashed in his eyes.

“I do not play dentist! It may not be the same as collecting teeth, but it is not a hobby. I’ve personally worked with countless spirits’ teeth, I’ve read nearly every book in existence on the subject of dental care, and if you even think about discrediting my experience I will yank out your wisdom teeth by the roots.” She threatened, holding the mirror scarcely an inch from his nose. He had practically flattened himself against the wall upon her advance and visibly slumped in relief when she stepped away, only to tense again at the snap of latex as she pulled on a pair of gloves from her case.

“What are you doing?” he demanded quickly, eyes darting from her to her bag.

“You mentioned cleaning teeth. Tell me, when was the last time you had a dental checkup?” Toothiana asked bluntly, her voice muffled slightly by the facemask she was tying over her mouth and nose.

 

 

 

“Come on, Pitch. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” Toothiana coaxed. It had taken a bit of effort, but she’d eventually managed to get him to hold still (technically she had pinned him to the floor by his robe with her scimitars like a butterfly on display, but that was irrelevant by this point).

“Come any closer and I’ll bite your fingers off.” Pitch warned her with a dangerous look in his eyes. Toothiana gave him a disapproving frown and stabbed her dagger into the floor beside his neck for good measure.

“If you’re going to bite my fingers off at least you’d be doing it with nice, clean, healthy teeth. Don’t make me brace your mouth open, because I can and will.” She countered, holding up the mouth clamp for him to see. His eyes widened in horror at the object and his stubbornness increased tenfold.

“If you think I’m letting you gallivant around my mouth with those _things_ you are sorely mistaken.” He hissed obstinately.

“It’s just a little tooth cleaning. People go through this all of the time. I’ve already sanitized all of my equipment, and if you’re good I’ll even give you a little treat afterwards, how’s that sound?” She offered mildly.

“Have you any idea the nightmare’s children have of visits to the dentist? There are adults who fear it!” Pitch snapped as she lined up her tools on the tray. She would have liked for him to be seated in the dental chair but she knew a lost cause when she saw one. There would have been no way she could have gotten Pitch into the chair without help, he seemed ready to thrash and fight at a moment’s notice. She could see him visibly tensing each time she moved, and he seemed to be fighting back a flinch whenever she came just a bit too close.

“I’m sure they’re awful, but you’re very brave so you should do just fine, right?” Toothiana reasoned, smoothing the paper bib on his chest and pretending not to see the affronted expression that crossed his face as his teeth clicked shut. A growl rumbled deep in his throat and Toothiana patted his cheek with a smile that could no doubt be seen through her facemask. “Open up.”

Pitch did as he was told, but it looked like it was the most painful thing he had ever done, and Toothiana smiled ever wider as she readied her mirror and turned on the LED light she had strapped to her forehead. Pitch cringed violently and she draped a bit of cloth over his eyes to protect them from the glare. With his eyes covered he flinched less, but his body twitched and shook under her hand. 

“Alright, so the good news is your teeth aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be, but there’s a bit of tarter build up in a few areas and what looks like the beginning of a cavity forming on one of your lower incisors that should probably be treated.-" Pitch growled dangerously at that. "You know what, why don’t we put a pin in that—it was just a figure of speech—and come back to it later? You probably don't want me drilling any holes just yet, but that cavity is going to start hurting if you don't get it fixed soon.” Toothiana told him, peering at the dental mirror as she scanned the harder to reach areas of his mouth. “Now, this is going to be unpleasant, but I’ll try to make it quick so bear with me.” She continued, reaching for her tools.

Pitch most definitely did _not_ enjoy the mild vibrating sensation of the device she used to loosen the largest bits of tarter. While his head didn’t move much she could feel his legs kicking and his body tensing. He growled loud and often, and proved that not only could he mimic a wide range of animal growls during the first ten minutes of his tooth cleaning, but he could also be very noisy when he did so. It was a miracle he hadn’t snapped his jaws shut and broken off the end of her equipment yet.

She allowed him to sit up frequently to rinse his mouth, making sympathetic noises and struggling not to laugh at his scowls and complaints. The death threats he used were getting more creative with each consecutive rinse.

“Just relax. I’m almost done with the cleaning part.” She assured him with no small degree of smugness as he grumbled something that she had absolutely no business repeating. "What did you say?" she asked coolly.

“I said stop telling me to relax!” He snapped.

“This isn’t going to be a very good experience if you’re going to spend it so tense.” She pointed out.

“You’re about to stick sharp objects in my mouth, apologies if I’m not at my calmest!”

“Fine. Don’t blame me if you snap a tendon.” She retorted, wrenching his bottom jaw open before he could respond. The look he gave her then was positively fatal.

His reaction to the curettes she used to scrape away the smaller bits of tater wasn’t much better, but his legs didn’t kick as frequently and he only offered an occasional growl in protest whenever he felt aggravated by her incessant scraping. There was a bit of bleeding in the gums, but she could understand that they would be sensitive for their first cleaning.

“You’re doing very well.” She commented delicately as she held up yet another cup of water to rinse his mouth with. He grunted in reply, allowing her to wipe his chin and help him lie back down.

“My hands are going numb.” He muttered in response.

“I’ll cut you loose soon. All that’s left is to get those teeth polished so they look nice and clean.” She promised, biting back the urge to remind him why she hadn’t been able to get him to the dental chair in the first place because of his fussing. Pitch let out an exasperated groan of dismay and opened his mouth wearily, flashing her one last look of defiance before his eyes were shielded from the light on her headband.

Pitch’s displeasure returned full force during the polishing, he didn’t seem to like any of the electronic cleaning tools she used. He shuddered in discomfort from time to time, and caught her tool between his teeth more than once. It was clear that his patience was wearing thin, but Toothiana was adamant that she did a thorough job (she doubted he would subject himself to another tooth cleaning anytime soon, so she might as well do the best she could while she had him).

“No biting.” She admonished when his teeth threatened to close on her thumb for the third time since she had started the polishing. Unable to reply in words, Pitch gave a loud snarl that sounded like a jungle cat, making his feelings towards being told what to do abundantly clear. He proceeded to try and bite her twice more, and nearly broke her tool in half before she was done.

She set down her tools with a sigh, pulling off her mask and removing her gloves.

“All done. Doesn’t it feel good to have a nice clean mouth?” She asked sweetly as Pitch ran his tongue over the inside of his mouth with a displeased grimace. She pulled him into a sitting position.

“I taste blood.” He growled sourly. Toothiana rolled her eyes.

“That's because you don't floss. Now, rinse.” She prompted, holding the cup to his lips as she wrenched the scimitars from the floor. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked, resting her hands on his shoulders while he rinsed his mouth. He spat into a bowl with a snort of exasperation as she put her equipment off to one side.

“It was terrible. How about I bite off those fingers now?” He growled, rolling his shoulders. Toothiana tightened her grip as she felt the tension in his muscles as they moved under her hand.

“Mm, better not. You wouldn’t want to get blood on your teeth after I just cleaned them.” She hummed back, moving to sever the rope that bound his ankles together.

“I don’t think I’ll mind that too much.” He sneered, kicking the rope from his feet like a cat shaking water from its paws. Toothiana reached into her bag and tossed a clear plastic pouch into his lap. Pitch jolted in surprise, looking down at the object with an unreadable expression.

“… Is this your idea of a treat?” he asked blankly at last, still staring at the pouch. Inside the pouch there was a brand new toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and some dental floss, the essentials of tooth care.

“What were you expecting, a lollypop?” She replied, setting the tools she had used on his teeth aside to be cleaned.

“I was expecting something enjoyable. Not this rubbish.” Pitch scowled, tipping the pouch out of his lap as best he could with his wrists still cuffed. Toothiana huffed and put the pouch back in his lap.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s necessary for having a healthy mouth, which is a treat on its own.” The glare she received was practically murderous. “Relax, it’s not the treat, I give these to all of my patients.” She amended dully, walking over to her cabinet. “Here’s your treat.” She added, dropping one of her longest tail feathers across his legs. It had fallen out last year and she had been saving it for some sort of craft she had wanted to do during her spare time. If it helped get Pitch off her back she was happy to be rid of it. It was a bit too long to be used as a bookmark, but she was sure he’d find something to do with it, and maybe it would stop him from stealing the rest of her feathers. The mini fairies were beginning to wonder why they couldn’t find as many loose feathers lately.

“What would I want your feather for?” Pitch demanded stiffly. He was staring at the feather with wide eyes, completely at odds with the grumpy sulk in his voice.

“Something unsavory, I’m sure.” She replied, crouching behind him to unlock the handcuffs. He didn’t bolt away, surprisingly, flexing his wrists and gathering the feather gingerly in his arms. His fingers fidgeted with the vanes, straightening them with startling familiarity. She shoved the plastic pouch into his hands. “Don’t even think about slipping away without bringing that with you.”

“You don’t actually expect me to use this do you?” He asked, glaring at the pouch disdainfully.

“You will use them. Twice a day for two minutes at least. And floss. Don’t even think about skipping because I will find out.” She ordered uncompromisingly, dragging him to his feet. He stumbled unsteadily and fumbled with the pouch and the feather in his hands, flashing her an uncertain look as she shoved him towards a shadowy corner of the room.

“ _Twice_ _a day_? Doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?” 

“Not at all. But, if you really want to make me proud, you can brush three times a day.”

“ _Three times?_ ” Pitch exclaimed, shooting her a sharp glare as he shook her hands from his shoulders.

“Once per meal. Now go, I’ve got work to do and you’ve got teeth to brush.” She said impatiently. He gave her one last weary look before retreating into the dark. “And don’t forget to floss!” She called after him as he disappeared.

Toothiana regarded the mess of cushions strewn over the floor and the open bag of dental equipment with a smirk, mentally estimating when to schedule Pitch’s next checkup. He had a cavity that needed treating after all.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating in the middle of the week to celebrate finishing my first year of college (aka: since school ended I have done literally nothing productive with my life and wrote fanfiction for three days straight)!

_“Care to explain?”_ Sandy asked as he glanced back and forth between the cat-sized nightmare pawing at the side of the bed and the indifferent Bogeyman coolly ignoring said nightmare completely. Pitch looked up from the book in his hands just in time to see the symbols swirling over Sandy’s head.

“No.” Pitch answered firmly, returning to his book. The miniature nightmare looked up at Sandy helplessly at her master’s continued silent treatment. Halfway into the next paragraph, Pitch found his reading interrupted by a small golden hand.

 _“I’d like you to explain.”_ Sandy amended with a troubled frown, forcing Pitch to lower his book.

“It’s none of your concern.” Pitch replied, fixing the little man with a glare. Sandy’s expression softened.

_“Are you two fighting?”_

“What gives you that impression?” Pitch snorted as he lifted the book to his face, only to find the page blocked once again by Sandy’s hand.

 _“What did Onyx do this time?”_ Sandy signed with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head as the unruly mare reared up and planted her front hooves against the bed, neck straining as she nibbled on the edge of Pitch’s robe. Pitch wrenched his book out of Sandy’s grasp with a scowl and yanked his robe out of Onyx’s mouth as an afterthought. _“She must have done something really bad if you aren’t letting her on the bed.”_ Sandy observed, frowning again.

“Know me that well, do you?” Pitch growled, watching the sand forming symbols over the top of his book. He should have known better than to think that Sandy would leave him be for a week or two, that his inexplicable absence would go unchecked. But alas, here Sandy was, looking at him with that infuriatingly pitying expression on his face. It was clear he wouldn’t be getting any more reading done so long as the Sandman continued to make a nuisance of himself. “It’s nothing really.” Pitch sighed offhandedly at last, hurling his book across the room with a growl. He heard it hit a stack of books and send them all to the floor in a satisfying chorus of crashes. “Nothing at all. Except that she’s a filthy little traitor.” Pitch continued venomously, glowering at Onyx hard enough to send her crawling under the bed. Sandy raised an eyebrow at Pitch’s outburst but wisely kept any comments to himself until after he was sure that the tirade was over.

 _“Is that all?”_ Sandy asked, somehow managing to seem genuinely curious rather than sarcastic. Pitch’s massive sigh caught in his chest before he could release it and he crossed his arms with a bitter grimace.

No, that wasn’t all. It wasn’t just Onyx. It was that damn fairy.

Not that Pitch planned to admit it out loud, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he was struggling. Every action she did served only to confuse him further with the way it contradicted everything he thought of before.

She did it on purpose, he knew. He could see it in her eyes. The way she looked at him with that coy little grin whenever she moved in too close, like she _knew_ what he thought about her. She’d always hated him. If it wasn’t the rabbit, it was Toothiana raring for blood, ready to penalize him for whatever injustice he had wrought. But now and then she smiled at him as though none of their hostilities mattered, when not days ago she might have been prepared to gut him. And also she had _kissed_ him…

What had that been?

Pitch had given up trying to understand Sanderson and his whimsical fantasies centuries ago, and Pitch made no effort in making sense of Frost’s nonsensical caprices. Jack was clearly too young to be hanging around such a disgusting group of fantasists, the poor boy was already hopelessly disillusioned to begin with. But Toothiana… Toothiana was supposed to be one of the (relatively) sane ones. Oral fixation aside—Pitch already regretted his mind’s choice of words—she was the motherly figure of the group. How could she be just as petty and immature as the rest of them?!

“Why are you here, Sanderson?” Pitch said at last, folding his legs to rest his crossed arms on his knees.

_“You missed our meeting. I waited for you.”_

“Is that all?” Pitch asked mockingly, rolling his eyes.

 _“No.”_ Sandy admitted. _“I’m sure you know what’s coming up soon.”_ he looked at Pitch for a moment, waiting for affirmation. Pitch shook his head wearily. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean.” He confessed, raking his mind for answers.

 _“St. Patrick’s Day?”_ Sandy signed. Pitch let out a long overdramatic groan, slumping in disappointment.

“Oh, please tell me you aren’t still set on _that_.” He grumbled, messaging his temples in preparation for the headache he knew would come from this conversation. Not that recent events hadn’t given him plenty of aches already.

 _“You don’t have to come for the Leprechaun’s party, but at least show up at the island after the sun goes down.”_ Sandy negotiated. _“There will be food, drinks, mermaids—“_

“I don’t want to go.” Pitch interrupted without another thought, flopping onto his side with a grunt. Sandy was completely silent, but Pitch could swear he heard the Sandman’s sigh. A few moments later Sandy drifted into his line of sight, a question mark floating over his head.

_“Why not?”_

“Do I really need to explain why I don’t want to strand myself on a deserted island with the five people I hate most, sans that buffoon in the moon?” Pitch muttered incredulously into his pillow. 

Sandy’s expression could almost be called empathetic. _“You can bring Onyx.”_ He suggested with a small smile. Onyx would enjoy the outing, Pitch was sure, but…

“No. I’m still mad at her.”

Sandy sighed again. _“Jack will be disappointed. He was really looking forward to seeing you there, you know.”_ He told Pitch dishearteningly, glancing at the gaudy cupid-shaped Valentine’s Day card that was pinned to the wall over Pitch’s desk.

“Trying to guilt-trip me now, are you Sanderson?” Pitch drawled disdainfully, lifting his head from the pillows to glare at the Sandman. Sandy formed the shape of a halo and wings out of dreamsand, clasping his hands piously as he batted his eyes at Pitch.

_“Why I would never.”_

Pitch scowled half in disgust, and half to keep himself from snickering. “Jack is hardly a good enough reason for me to go, you should know that by now.” He replied after a moment, his expression turning serious.

Sandy raised an eyebrow and flashed the symbol of a wine bottle invitingly. The prospect of alcohol put a foul taste in Pitch’s mouth and made his insides churn with discomfort. It must have shown on his face because Sandy laughed sympathetically at Pitch’s grimace and allowed the shape to disperse, giving Pitch an apologetic smile as he replaced the wine bottle with a chessboard. _“Chess then?”_ Sandy revised hopefully. Pitch’s expression turned thoughtful, and Sandy grinned wider.

“Don’t look so proud of yourself. There’s still no guarantee that I’ll come you know.” Pitch reminded him with a scowl of disapproval. Sandy’s smile didn’t waver.

 _“The party is tomorrow. You have a standing invitation at the island, so you can show up whenever you feel like it.”_ Sandy told him self-assuredly.

“Aren’t you coming to drag me hither and yon as usual?” Pitch asked, sitting up with a slight frown. Sandy always came to force him to one of the Guardians’ holiday parties.

 _“Not this time. I have a leprechaun to outdrink and a party to host.”_ Sandy replied with a saucy grin, making Pitch roll his eyes.

“Don’t get carried away. I’d hate to be the one to coax you into work with a hangover.” Pitch replied dully.

 _“Can’t be any worse than you. I’ll set up the chessboard if you decide to show up.”_ Sandy told him with a cheery smile.

“That’s a big ‘if’, little man.” Pitch added sternly. “You know how I feel about these group things. I doubt you’d devote all of your time to a game of chess.”

 _“You could always teach Jack how to play.”_ Sandy suggested.

“I’ve already tried. The best that boy can manage is checkers.” Pitch sighed. Jack was beyond hopeless when it came to anything more sophisticated than Candyland.

 _“The mermaids can play chess.”_ Sandy tried. _“They’ve been practicing you know.”_

“Tempting…” Pitch mused dryly. The mermaids’ attitudes towards him had improved dramatically since the truce began, and he spoke with them often (it was either them or the Guardians, and it wasn’t a terribly difficult choice to make). He wouldn’t have said ‘no’ to a few easy wins. “I’ll think about it.” He said at last.

Agonizingly triumphant, Sandy bade him farewell and returned to his duties, leaving Pitch alone in the dark to contemplate the prospect of the party.

He wasn’t going to get dragged by the hem of his robe this time. He wasn’t obligated to show up at all. That certainly was an improvement.

Jack wanted him to come, and he hadn’t played chess with Sanderson in a few weeks, but it wasn’t as if those reasons compelled him to show up and suffer the awkward glances and tense exchanges between himself and the other Guardians. He didn’t want to endure the aggravation of the Guardians’ company whilst sober either. He didn’t want to see them at all. He was perfectly happy to stay in his lair and read his books. Not to mention… he _really_ didn’t want to face Toothiana again…

He wasn’t avoiding her. That would suggest that he was, stars forbid, _afraid_ of her, which he most certainly was _not_. She was his enemy. It was perfectly reasonable for him to not want to see her. Especially after their last encounter.

Pitch shot a glare at the clear plastic pouch resting on his nightstand.

He should have bitten her while he had the chance. He could have done it effortlessly. One snap of his jaws and he could have chomped her pretty, perfect little fingers right off. It would have taught her not to mess with his teeth while he slept.

Out of spite, he hadn’t touched the long tail feather she’d given him since he had returned from his unexpected trip to the Tooth Palace. Pitch didn’t want to consider why she’d given him a feather of all things.

She couldn’t have known he had been sneaking into the Tooth Palace, could she? The only evidence he left of his intrusion was when he swiped a molted feather or two from her room (they were such nice bookmarks compared to the scraps of paper he normally used), but surely Toothiana wasn’t so meticulous as to take note of a few missing feathers. Even if she had noticed, she would have said something to him, right? She would have punished him for it, like when she had slapped him the first time he had snuck into her room. She would have said something at least, right? Unless she knew and opted not to say anything, because she knew it would throw him off balance.

What would she think of him if he didn’t show up? Would she think he was avoiding her?

Pitch tore his eyes off of the plastic pouch with a scowl. He was not a coward! He would not be driven away by something so childish! 

"I suppose it won't hurt to drop by for a little bit." Pitch decided aloud to Onyx.

 

 

 

“Behave yourself.” Pitch hissed to Onyx under his breath.

He had arrived earlier than he had intended, stepping out of the shadow of the palm trees that grew on the island to the sight of Jack Frost skimming over the top of the ocean, freezing the surf with the tip of his staff. Mermaids chased after him under the waves, grabbing at his feet to tug him into the water playfully. Onyx whined from under his arm, still stunted as punishment for helping Toothiana kidnap him, and unhappy to be limited to the crook of his elbow.

Further down the beach Pitch spotted Bunnymund and North, and goodness he could see the green from here. What on earth had happened to turn the rabbit so spectacularly green? Not to mention North, whose beard might never be fully rid of the hue it was sporting at the moment. The two were sculpting away at the sand. North seemed to be constructing a sand duplicate of his own workshop, while Bunnymund dutifully carved replicas of his stone egg warriors. Sandy officiated the proceedings from his post by a roaring fire with a towering small-scale model of his dream ship dominating a fair portion of the shore. He saw no sign of Toothiana, and quickly squashed the glimmer of hope that welled in his chest at the possibility that the Tooth Fairy was too busy to attend the gathering.

The sky was still stained orange from what must have been a particularly spectacular sunset, and Pitch could see the Island of Sleepy Sands floating on the horizon not far from the island that he stood on. There was a splash as several mermaids surfaced nearby, waving him over amiably.

“Ladies.” Pitch acknowledged stiffly, coming to a halt near the water’s edge, tucking Onyx into his robe.

“Nightmare King.” One replied with surprising warmth in her mellifluous voice, smiling back at him not unkindly as she pulled herself ashore. Pitch crouched civilly when she came near, unbothered by the waves lapping at his robe. “You missed quite a beautiful sunset.” She told him serenely, her red hair plastered to her head and dripping down her back.

“No sunset can match your loveliness.” He answered, matching her melodious voice with a few dulcet notes of his own.

“You’re too kind.” She crooned prettily, ever pleasing on the ears. “We’re surprised to see you came. Sandy wasn’t sure if you would.” She continued conversationally. Pitch nodded primly, only half listening.

“Well, I was promised a game of chess.” Pitch said simply, shrugging as Onyx shifted under his robe with a muffled neigh of displeasure.

“I’m sure some of us would be happy to indulge in a game or two. The board is set up over there.” She lifted an arm to point down the beach in the direction of the Guardians. Pitch squinted as North and Bunnymund appeared to get into some sort of argument over one another’s sand sculptures.

“Marvelous.” He muttered, tipping his head to the mermaids watching him from the shallows.

“It’s nice to see you here of your own volition.” She commented after a moment. Pitch grunted in reply, prompting a giggle from her. “Don’t be like that.” She chided.

“I can be worse. Consider yourself lucky.” He said moodily.

An unseasonal chill gusted over Pitch and he sighed heavily as Jack flew over. The mermaid Pitch had been conversing with withdrew into the waves with a giggle, surprisingly quick in her retreat, and Onyx squirmed under his robe, thrusting her snout into the open to scent the air.

“Pitch! You came!” Jack exclaimed.

“Regrettably.” Pitch drawled, standing leisurely. Jack landed on a patch of dry sand and looked from Pitch to the mermaids playing in the surf with a disappointed frown. His hair was dyed a faded green and sprinkled liberally with what looked to be green glitter. The vile substance was caught in the grooves of his staff, clinging to his cheeks, and dusting even the frost on his hoodie. On his shoulder a literal ball of green clung like a soft fluffy burr, and it took Pitch almost a full minute to realize that the burr was in fact a mini fairy. The one-and-only 'Baby Tooth', he suspected. The Tooth Fairy might not have been as busy as he had first thought. 

“Man, how’d you get her out on the beach? They never do that for me.” Jack complained with a pout.

“Maybe they would be more inclined to speak to you if you didn’t freeze the waves every time you visit.” Pitch replied coolly, eyeing the sizable ice floats bobbing among the waves. Jack grinned sheepishly.

“It’s more fun than it looks. You should have been here earlier though, it was amazing. We built a sand fort, made sandmen, and North taught me how to swim!” Jack rambled, starting to walk down the beach towards the fire. Pitch rolled his eyes and followed slowly, shoving Onyx’s head back into his robe as they passed the remnants of the supposed ‘sandmen’. Pitch had no difficulty believing Jack’s hand in their construction.

“Any close calls?” He asked disinterestedly.

“Nah, I had a lifejacket on, safety first and all that. Sorry to disappoint you.” Jack assured him with a laugh.

“That’s a shame. I would have just thrown you in.” Pitch lamented lightly.

“Not exactly the best teaching method.” Jack commented, unfazed.

“It gets results.” Pitch pointed out with a smirk.

“Yeah, bad ones. The failure to success rate is a bit skewed.” Jack replied bluntly.

"Perhaps. But it certainly has helped your aquaphobia, didn't it?" Pitch pointed out with a satisfied smirk as Jack nodded reluctantly before reaching over to pinch him hard on the arm.

"Ow! What the devil was that for?!" He spat, stepping out of reach when Jack looked to be searching for his next target.

"You weren't wearing green." Jack answered, pinching the air between them for emphasis with a cocky grin.

Pitch restrained himself from flinging the brat into the sea like an athlete hurling a discus (the mermaids likely would have fished him out anyway) and continued to keep his distance as they neared the fire.

There was a massive hunk of meat sizzling on a spit above an equally large bonfire, and an icebox sat off to one side, on top of which there was a bag of marshmallows, chocolates (from Bunnymund, no doubt), and skewers. Sandy looked up from turning the spit upon their approach, greeting them with a beaming grin and a wave, looking utterly unaffected by whatever tomfoolery had colored half of his body bright green. At the smell of cooking meat and dreamsand Onyx kicked her way free of Pitch’s robe and cantered off to the fire, making Jack yelp in surprise.

“It that Onyx? Why’s she so little?” He laughed, crouching as the tiny nightmare butted her head against the winter sprite’s shin.

“She’s grounded. Yes, hello Sanderson.” Pitch grumbled, stopping just short of the light as he glared at Sandy’s enthusiastic greeting. “You promised me a chess game.”

Sandy smiled ruefully and gestured to the fire with a helpless shrug. _“Busy right now. The board is over there if you’d like to start a game or two with the mermaids.”_ Pitch repressed a sigh of disappointment and skirted the edge of the firelight sullenly.

“Typical.” He muttered under his breath as he swept past the bonfire, eager to remain unnoticed as he heard North and Bunnymund’s voices raised in disagreement from the water’s edge. He hadn’t come to be eyed suspiciously by a Cossack or glared at by giant rabbit.

"Whoa, hey, aren't you gonna sit by the fire?" Jack asked quickly, giving Pitch a look akin to that of a kicked puppy.

"Oh most definitely not. Terrible place for shadows. Simply dreadful." He drawled, taking long strides away from the firelight and ignoring the pout he could feel boring into his back from Jack. What did the boy expect from him really? That he would sit alongside the Guardians and sing campfire songs? "No, I'll be much happier over here,  _away_ from whatever sappy nonsense you lot plan to partake in." He _would_ be happier away from the firelight. He'd spent a millennia getting comfortable with the setup, he wasn't about to break out of the comfort that he had so painstakingly earned. The shadows were practically his by birthright. It only irked him slightly that Onyx had deigned to remain by the fire without him.

There were mermaids already beached on the shore when he approached, gathered around a blanket that was spread out over the sand. Pitch froze however when he spotted a distinctly iridescent sheen among the deep green scales of the mermaids’ bodies.

Toothiana was perched daintily on the corner of the blanket, chatting amicably with the mermaids. So that was where she was. But why was she there? She was supposed to be with the other Guardians, sitting in her spot by the fire. She wasn’t supposed to be sitting in the dark, talking to the mermaids. That was _his_ spot. Was nothing sacred under the damn truce?

The conversation devolved into a chorus of laughter and Pitch tensed as the mermaid he had spoken with earlier spotted him.

“Nightmare King.” She hailed politely, putting an end to the chatter.

“Good evening ladies. Mind if I join you?” Pitch asked smoothly as he ghosted to the far side of the chessboard. He felt the barest glimmer of uncertainty from Toothiana before it was quelled by some other sort of emotion that he was unable to detect as she shuffled around to face him.

“Go right ahead.” The mermaid told him, gesturing towards the blanket with a smile.

“What brings you so far from the fireside, Toothiana?” Pitch mused aloud as he took a seat, frowning at Toothiana suspiciously. She held up both hands disarmingly, and Pitch stared hard at the glittery green shamrock spangle that was decorating her right cheek. There was green confetti in her feathers as well. It looked as though she had been shot from a confetti canon, if he were completely honest. Knowing North's penchant for outrageously unnecessary fanfare during any holiday (except perhaps Easter), he didn't dismiss his first impression.

“I saw the chessboard and thought I’d play. You don’t mind, do you?” Toothiana replied civilly. 

“Oh?” He said evenly, his stomach clenching. He most certainly did mind, but he refused to be cowed from his territory beyond the reach of the fire. This was his area. If anyone should be feeling uncomfortable, it was Toothiana, not him. She seemed a bit anxious to be there, he observed with a twinge of satisfaction, but it was barely detectable.

“We were just showing Queen Toothiana the rules actually.” One of the mermaids added. Pitch hid his displeasure well, raising an eyebrow slowly.

“I’ve played chess once, but it was many decades ago.” Toothiana admitted after a moment, her feathers lying flat. Pitch narrowed his eyes at her critically.

“Well, this is no place for an amateur so I suggest you run back to your friends by the fire.” He told her dismissively, waving towards the bonfire where he could see Jack chasing Onyx in circles while Sandy tried to continue keeping an eye on the meal he was preparing.

“I’m staying, thank you very much. I don't have many breaks that allow for this sort of thing, so I'd like to take advantage of the opportunity.” There was an edge to her voice that made it very clear that she would not be moved, and Pitch gritted his teeth in disgust when none of the mermaids seemed particularly inclined to dismiss her.

“Come now, Pitch. Why not let her play a game?” One of the mermaids cooed, edging around the blanket to lounge beside him. He resisted the urge to growl.

“Fine.” He grumbled reluctantly, scowling when Toothiana shifted to make herself more comfortable on the blanket, a fresh reminder of the loss of her instinctive fear of her former enemy. Her tail was still sitting in the sand, he noted, his scowl deepening. That couldn't be good for her feathers. “White moves first.” He bit out, pushing the chessboard between them as he turned it so that the black pieces were in front of him.

Toothiana blinked rapidly at the board for a moment before gingerly scooting one of her pawns forward two spaces. “Sticking to a theme I see.” She noted after a moment as Pitch moved one of his own pawns.

“Force of habit. And Sanderson called dibs on the white pieces for all of eternity.” Pitch replied bluntly as she moved another piece.

For several minutes there was nothing but the sound of the waves crashing lazily on the soft sand and the varying clacks of chess pieces being moved. The mermaids retreated into the sea one by one as the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. Behind them, North was regaling some event from his youth that only Jack seemed interested in hearing while Bunnymund interrupted the tales with "what really happened" between swigs of something that was likely very alcoholic. Poor Sanderson was no doubt being ignored by everyone except Onyx, but he would be used to that by now. Oddly enough, Toothiana's absence was not as gaping as he had expected it to be, meaning that Bunnymund had yet to rescue her from the terrible presence of the Bogeyman and flit her away back into the safety of the firelight. Although, given recent events, perhaps North would be more likely to do the rescuing, Pitch considered with a grimace.

Toothiana was being rather quiet, he also noted. Not a single mini fairy hovered around her head, and not a single order was given to search for lost teeth.

“You’re doing quite well for someone who hasn’t played chess in a few decades.” Pitch commented evenly, breaking the silence.

“Why Pitch, was that a compliment I heard?” Toothiana asked smugly, sliding her bishop across the board.

“No. Merely an observation.” He clarified sternly as moved one of his knights.

“I’m the Guardian of Memories. Retention comes with the territory.” She explained unnecessarily, finishing her turn briskly. She was so quick and decisive in her moves, unlike Sanderson who liked to take his sweet time with just about everything (there was a reason why Pitch’s games with Sandy lasted for hours). Pitch couldn’t remember the last time he had played against such a quick opponent, he had to fight the urge to try and keep up.

“Along with an unhealthy obsession with teeth apparently.” He growled, pushing one of his pawns forward with the tip of his finger.

“You can put your fangs away Pitch, your next routine checkup isn’t for another six months.” Toothiana reassured him lightly as she took her turn.

“My _next_ checkup?” He sputtered disbelievingly, tearing his eyes off of the chessboard to look at her properly for the first time since the game had begun. “You snatched me from my home and then rummaged through my mouth with a hook!” He exclaimed furiously.

“’Kidnapped’ is a bit of a strong word, don’t you think? After all, you cost me a week’s worth of sleep and snuck into my bedroom to give me sleep paralysis and wave a knife in my face.” Toothiana reminded him coolly, unperturbed by the way his shadow spiked and warped unnaturally around them. “Besides, I was doing you a favor by cleaning your teeth. It might be a bit unpleasant, but having clean teeth has a plethora of benefits in the long term such as—“

“I think I’ll stop you there, before you spiral into a rant about dental hygiene.” Pitch interrupted quickly, taking one of her rooks with a knight. He set it down on the blanket beside him as Toothiana huffed loudly through her nose and placed her bishop on a path to pursue Pitch’s knight.

“I wasn’t going to rant.” She muttered indignantly, watching him move one of his pawns again, leaving his knight vulnerable to her bishop. Her hand hovered over the bishop indecisively as she scanned the board, and Pitch could practically _taste_ the unease emanating off of her as she tried to predict his next move. Pitch suppressed a satisfied grin before she could see it and glanced towards the Guardians by the fire, feigning indifference. Jack appeared to be trying to convince Onyx to steal a marshmallow from the bag atop the icebox with little success.

There was a sharp click as a piece was set down and Pitch looked back to see Toothiana capture his knight with her bishop. Pitch promptly slid his rook down the board and took Toothiana’s other bishop, sighing happily at the twinge of panic that he felt from her in response. Chess was so much more fun with an unfamiliar opponent.

“You have been brushing your teeth, right?” Toothiana asked as she moved her remaining bishop back to her side of the board. When Pitch looked up he saw her staring up at him intensely.

“No.” He snorted scornfully.

“You have to brush your teeth!” she exclaimed, seeming to grow several inches as her feathers bristled like porcupine quills.

“I’m not obligated to do anything of the sort, nor do I have a particular desire to. If anything, foul teeth are standard for monsters like myself.” He retorted flippantly as he nudged his own bishop a few spaces. Toothiana seemed to bristle further, and Pitch decided that this time he would keep comments about her feathers to himself. She really did look as though she were covered in iridescent razor blades though.

“Bad teeth are more terrifying to have than they are to look at.” She snipped back, moving her knight over a row of pawns to put his bishop in danger. “And, personally, I think you’d be scarier with healthy teeth.” She added in a softer voice, giving Pitch pause. That was an... interesting sentiment. Was she implying that she would have preferred him with healthy teeth, or simply that he would be more frightening with them? Or perhaps she was saying that he would simply be more frightening to  _her_ if he had healthy teeth, which was an odd possibility given her preference for good teeth in general.

“Is that so? I would have thought that you of all people would find the sight of foul teeth particularly horrifying.” He commented cautiously, moving one of his knights.

“A monster with rotten teeth can’t bite very well, now can it?” She replied, and Pitch swore under his breath as she jumped his bishop with her knight. He’d forgotten to move it out of the way.

“I’ll tell you what.” Toothiana said suddenly, “If you win this game, I won’t come after you for your next checkup.”

“What’s the catch?” Pitch prompted wearily. Toothiana’s crest flared in confusion.

“Pardon?” She asked in bewilderment.

“The catch. There’s always a catch. What’s the catch?” Pitch elaborated impatiently, waving for her to continue.

“There is no catch. If I win, I get to give you your next checkup. It’s as simple as that.” Toothiana explained with a shrug. Pitch squinted at her dubiously. She was being awfully generous, letting him get away without nearly as much of a fuss as she normally might have given, considering how dreadfully important dental hygiene was to her.

“That’s all?” He asked with a frown.

“That’s all. Cross my heart.” She promised, scoring an ‘x’ across her lustrous chest with one finger. Pitch crossed his arms with a huff.

“I can’t help but feel that I have more at stake than you do.” He mused, narrowing his eyes at her. “Doesn’t seem fair, after all there’s no skin off your back if you loose.”

Toothiana heaved a heavy sigh. “I already know I’m going to regret this but fine. What do you want to add?” She asked reluctantly, glaring at him wearily.

“If you win, you get to clean my teeth every six months for the next three years. But if _I_ win, I get to help you get over that little phobia of yours for however long it takes until you can sit in a cage without panicking.” Pitch submitted with a dangerous smile. Toothiana’s feathers flared beautifully in alarm.

“Absolutely not!” she exclaimed, the wave of agitation rushing from her making his skin tingle.

“It might be a bit unpleasant, but overcoming a phobia can have a plethora of benefits in the long term.” Pitch snickered, paraphrasing what she herself had said earlier. Toothiana’s mouth clamped shut and her plumage seemed to pulse with every breath she took.

“My response to cages is perfectly natural! No one likes being locked up.” She argued quickly.

“I completely agree. But excessive panic won’t improve your situation.” Pitch reasoned deviously. “You don’t like being trapped in cages, and I don’t like having someone’s fingers poking around inside my mouth. The consequences are very fair.” He added in a more neutral voice. Toothiana pursed her lips and fidgeted anxiously, and Pitch contented himself with watching the procession of deliberation flitting across her face.

“Fine…” She muttered, almost too softly to be heard. Oh she was definitely going to regret it later.

Pitch leaned forward with a smirk and held one hand over the chessboard. “Shall we shake on it then, my dear?” He crooned, drinking in her hesitation as she eyed his outstretched hand with poorly veiled suspicion.

“Alright.” She said at last, grasping his hand with an excessively firm grip. His smirk widened as he curled his fingers around her hand. They shook once and hesitated, neither willing to be the one to let go first before they finally released each other slowly.

The game changed then. Neither spoke, nor did they take their eyes from the board. Well, Pitch didn’t, but he couldn’t say the same for Toothiana. No, he would use every ounce of his skills in this battle. He had been playing chess since it’s inception, and he had dedicated innumerable hours to its techniques and strategies. Toothiana’s memory may have been impressive, however her skills were not nearly so carefully preserved. She had speed and was well equipped to dividing her attention across the board, but that was where her abilities stopped. It wasn't necessarily an easy game, but Pitch could already see the outcome, even if Toothiana couldn't.

Sanderson called for a break after ten minutes by shoving a plate of food into both of their hands. For Pitch, an impressively choice cut of meat, and for Toothiana, a fine selection of sliced fruits. They reluctantly agreed to the respite in order to enjoy their dinners, and glared at each other from opposite sides of the chessboard. Toothiana scowled at the way Pitch tore into the meat with his teeth, and Pitch rolled his eyes at the—dare he say— _bird-like_ pecks that Toothiana took out of her fruit.

“You really should floss after that.” Toothiana advised curtly, looking towards the bonfire as she spoke. She must have been getting cold by now, Pitch figured, eyeing the oh-so-subtle tremor in her crest feathers. Still, facing imminent defeat and isolated from her companions she remained here, with him, in the cold outland beyond the reach of the firelight. Stubborn little thing.

“And you really should leave me to enjoy my dinner in peace. We can’t all get what we want, can we?” He countered sharply, taking another vicious bite out of the meat.

Sandy returned later to offer them drinks (conspicuously non-alcoholic) and hesitated over the chessboard with a frown. He gestured at the white pieces that had been jumped sitting in a pile near Pitch, and then at Toothiana, giving her a sympathetic expression.

“Don’t even think about helping her, little man.” Pitch growled warningly over the lip of his mug before taking a sip. He generously pretended to ignore the fleeting glimpse of advice Sandy gave Toothiana when he turned away. Sanderson's sympathy was well founded. Even he had to admit he was being particularly ruthless in his movements, however she had brought it on herself and he was _not_ going to permit her to give him another "checkup" just to pander to her awfully bizarre tooth fetish! He set down his mug, forming a decent depression in the sand to keep it upright, and gestured at the board. “It was your turn, I believe.”

In thirty minutes he had taken half of her pieces, and she was becoming increasingly desperate. After forty minutes, Pitch had gotten a stalemate (not exactly the victory he had hoped for, but it was acceptable enough), and he watched with no small amount of smugness as Toothiana shoved the board away with a cry of dismay.

“Overestimated yourself, didn’t you?” Pitch chuckled. Toothiana leaned over and flicked his standing king piece off of the chessboard spitefully.

“You got lucky.” She growled.

“There’s no such thing as luck in a game of chess.” Pitch corrected as he retrieved the toppled king piece. Toothiana crossed her arms with an annoyed huff, sulking quietly for a moment before a muffled whinny caught her attention. She sat up straight as a pint-sized Onyx trotted over from the fire and rubbed up against Pitch’s elbow. He was appalled by the amount of glitter that had rubbed off of Jack and onto his nightmare. But while the glitter might have been accidental, the shamrock emblazoned banner draped across her withers was definitely intentional.

“Is that Onyx? What happened to her?” Toothiana gasped, and he assumed she was referring to Onyx's size rather than the abhorrent display of St. Patrick's Day paraphernalia that she had been strewn with.

“Punishment for aiding in my capture.” Pitch explained sourly, giving her a bitter glare. Toothiana winced under his gaze, her cheeks flushing an admittedly lovely shade of pink as her crest flattened self-consciously.

“In Onyx’s defense, I did bribe her with a fair bit of dreamsand.” She said sheepishly, smoothing down the feathers on her arm shyly. Pitch snorted exasperatingly, rolling his eyes as Onyx bumped his arm with her head repeatedly.

“She should have known better than to let a Guardian into my home. I blame Frost. He’s been spending an inordinate amount of time with her.” He sniffed indifferently, offering his hand to the nightmare’s insistent snuffling. Onyx thrust her snout against his palm and deposited something soft into it. Pitch frowned at the marshmallow disappointedly as Onyx snuck around to his other arm and began licking his empty plate.

“… I’m sorry about capturing you. It was a bit inappropriate.” Toothiana admitted blushingly as she averted her gaze to the miniature nightmare nipping at Pitch’s side. He didn't believe her apology for a second.

“So you’ll apologize for invading my home and kidnapping me, but you won’t apologize for digging through my teeth and gums with surgical implements?” He questioned, squishing the marshmallow between his thumb and forefinger idly as Onyx regurgitated a small hoard of chocolates into his lap, the clever girl. The chocolates would certainly be missed when the time for making s'mores rolled around. He supposed the one real benefit to the truce was giving him such easy access to treats like those. It was even better that they were stolen from a Guardian.

“Of course! Your teeth needed to be cleaned. Even spirits who don’t eat often need a checkup every once in a while, and you sir were long overdue.” Toothiana lectured sternly, shaking a finger at him for emphasis, all signs of embarrassment gone in an instant.

“Ever the advocate for dental hygiene, aren’t you?" Pitch noted absently the sand covered mess her tail was in with a quiet sigh. It would no doubt take an hour or so of thorough bathing to rid them completely of the sand, never mind the excess of glitter and confetti or that every inch of her body was covered in salt from the ocean air. It certainly wouldn’t be easy to clean, but she had thousands of little helpers to get to those hard-to-reach spots, he supposed a bit enviously. The fairies couldn't be very efficient though, their hands were so _small_. A pity, but unavoidable given the effort she must take to keep 'unsavory' spirits at sword's length. "Although I hope you don’t expect me to let you out of our little deal just because you apologized.” Pitch added with a sneer.

“Of course not. Why would I expect anything less?” She groaned in dismay. The obvious dread in her eyes was positively delightful.

“Well, let’s just say this: if you aren’t outside my lair by six o’clock pm this Monday, I’ll come by your palace to pick you up myself.” Pitch replied slyly, laughing openly at the horrified expression that flashed across her face. It was nothing worse than what she had done, and Pitch found himself genuinely eager to see her again when he returned to his lair. His only regret was not being able to watch her wallow in anxiety for the rest of the night when she finally rejoined the Guardians by the fire.

She did manage to get one final shot in however when as he turned to leave she pinched him sharply in the small of his back with a hissed "Not wearing green" as her departing words.

Her aim had been a little low, perhaps due to the dark surroundings, and, judging from the feel of it, her pinch had definitely left a welt. Not that he'd bothered to check...


End file.
